Poison
by Charli Fox
Summary: J-I. Sydney, Vaughn and Jack must work with Sloane and Sark. But Irina stands in their way. Epilogue is now up and ready to read.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Nothing in the Alias world belongs to me.  
  
**Poison  
**  
The outside of the compound was in stark contrast to the inside, as different as dark and light or hot and cold. The fields that surrounded the two storey, grey, concrete building was green and lush, each blade glistening and wet due to the rainfall that had started and continued pretty much non-stop for the last two days. The sun was shining brightly though and the air was warm, if a little bit clammy at times. A wooden fence around four feet high surrounded the building which upon first glance looked more like a bizarre cross between a warehouse and a miniature prison, there were flowers that looked to have been tended to recently, bright yellow Daffodils that danced to and fro in the light breeze. The only sign that the building must have been occupied came from the guard station to the right of the double gates, that were the only entrance, a gravel path led from these to the front door of the house.  
  
The station itself was small, just enough to house a TV, table, two chairs, mini bar and the two security guards that looked to be bored and half asleep. That was a façade however and it was plainly obvious to the trained eye. The two men knew only how to deceive the casual observer. The ground floor of the house itself looked to be perfectly normal, leading off from the left of the entrance hall was the living room and dining room, a door connected them both and another led to a sizeable kitchen that would have made the greatest chef happy. To the right of the entrance hall was a furnished corridor that led to two bedrooms, bathroom, study and the staircase. It was all perfectly normal.  
  
On the next floor there were two large rooms, the first was full of computer terminals, surveillance equipment, weapons, and gadgets that would have kept Marshall occupied for the next three months. Then again, many of them were copies of hardware he had designed while at SD-6. Unlike the lower level, which was carpeted, the floors of these rooms were stone tiled. No wallpaper was present on the cold, grey walls; the room was not there to look nice it was just for operational reasons. The only light came from the computers, when they were switched on, and a bare ceiling light.  
  
The second room, also cold, grey and bland was even darker as the only light came from the corridor. Inside was a chair, leather, soft and comfortable looking, it had undoubtedly been taken from the ground floor where it would not have looked out of place. There was a dent in the seat, it was well used. The chair was set against the wall, beside the metal door; it faced three cells; one of which held a thin mattress that had been pushed against the far wall. A plate was beside it, the food untouched, as was whatever liquid filled the glass nearby. The cutlery was made of plastic, blue in colour and easily broken; the steal knives and forks could obviously have been used as a weapon. The last sign that anybody had occupied the small space was a thin black coat that had been folded at the centre of the mattress; it had been used either as a blanket or a pillow.  
  
The door to the cell room was pushed open and a middle-aged woman, black and grey hair pulled of her face into a tight bun, walked in and made straight for the recently occupied cell. She tutted upon seeing the untouched food and picked up the plate and glass before exiting. As the room was empty it was pointless locking the door; anything of value was in the next room, a room which she had been forbidden to enter and this of course made her extremely curious. As the woman turned towards the stairs she heard the voice of her boss calling her back.  
  
"Ola, I won't be requiring your services again for quite some time, after tonight. If you would stop by my study on your way out Mr. Sark will give you your pay check" the man smiled and turned to walk back the way he had come, signaling the end of the conversation.  
  
Until she called him back. "Your..." Ola paused thoughtfully. "Your guest, is leaving?" she enquired innocently. It was plainly obvious the woman that had been kept in the cell was far from being a guest; the fact that she had been, toward the end, held on the first floor was evidence of that.  
  
Sloane smiled again, there was no warmth there. He was warning her "now Ola, what did I say about questions?" without waiting for an answer he led her back towards the staircase and pointed toward the door.  
  
"Of course, Sir" Ola answered meekly. "I will be leaving soon." Satisfied that the woman wasn't going to start snooping around, the former head of SD- 6 left her alone and disappeared back inside the other room.  
  
There was another floor. It was less used than the other two, the access to the sublevel was either through the hidden door in Sloane's study or via the door under the stairs, inside of which, if not examined closely looked to be mere storage space. If anyone wanted to gain entry to the downstairs room they would have to know where they were going. Immediately below the stairs was another door, metallic and double locked. It was quite dark and it one didn't know where they were going they would walk into the wall below the stairs. The door was on the right hand side and the room behind looked like a twin of Sloane's old 'conversation room'. It appeared to be the only room down there.

* * *

The brunette groaned and pushed her hair back off her face to see where she was. He could tell straight away that she was no longer in the first floor cell, it was quite a bit colder here, there was also no mattress, the light in the room came from a bulb that swung slightly from the ceiling which was too high to reach. It illuminated the centre of the cell where she was lying and the edges were cast in a dim glow, the bulb was flickering though and would soon go out altogether. She reached for where the coat would have been and realised it would still be upstairs.  
  
She saw pictures in her mind but these were blurry, she could only just remember who she was. It was an unexpected after effect of whatever Sloane had given her, but no doubt he would find a way to use it to his advantage. No, the expected effects were already starting, albeit slowly. The dull pain in her stomach would grow, as would the headache that was at present a mere annoyance. She remembered with a little smile how she had interrupted Sloane's plans; at first he had actually believed she was helping him. She would have laughed, remembering the furious look on his face as he found out what she was really up to, if her chest didn't hurt so much when she tried.  
  
She pushed herself to her knees and looked around the cell; it was perhaps a foot wider than the other one. She looked carefully at the ceiling, was there a camera up there? Was he watching to see if she would break? If he was he would be waiting for a very long time, she would never tell him what he wanted to know.

**24hrs earlier  
  
Los Angeles  
**  
A shadow loomed over the computer that Sydney Bristow was sat at, she pushed back from the desk to see who it was that wanted her. It was her father, he indicated for her to follow him and with a puzzled glance stood up and followed him as he led the way into the conference room. "What is it?" she questioned once the door was closed. A cough alerted her to the presence of other people in the room and she turned her head to see Dixon and Vaughn, the latter sat at the table while the former stood and waited for Syd to sit down. "What's going on?" she took the seat across from Vaughn and waited for someone to answer.  
  
It was Jack that did so, his presence silently demanding attention. "You remember Jacque Bourrett?" at her nod he continued. Jacque was twenty- eight; the last time Sydney had seen him he reminded her of some kind of Sark wannabe, he had been spotted with the younger man and Sloane recently. Having those two as mentors wasn't going to do anything for his personality, or his popularity. "He has agreed to help us."  
  
Before he could speak further, Vaughn interrupted. "Why would he want to do that?"  
  
The look that the older agent shot his way silenced him. "As I was saying, he's agreed to help us" not giving anyone else a chance to repeat Vaughn's question, he pressed on. "Apparently the only reason Mr. Bourrett was helping Slone was because he had been led to believe his sister would be in danger. Either he didn't think to check or he was too scared to second- guess Sloane, but yesterday a relative contacted him. It appears his sister was simply travelling and was unreachable" he paused for breath and to give the others a chance to process the new information. "He will lead us to Sloane and Sark's new property, according to Bourrett they're residing in Ville Neuve, France."  
  
Dixon continued the briefing as the elder Bristow took a seat beside his daughter. "All he wants in return is protection for his sister and himself and considering what he's offering we were willing to accept."  
  
"Please don't tell me we're going to sit on this information for God knows how long until we have confirmation that he's telling us the truth" Sydney was getting ready to protest, if that turned out to be the case. She looked across the table at Vaughn, whose eyes were already on her, he was thinking the same thing.  
  
Dixon immediately allayed their worries. "We received confirmation half an hour ago; Sark was sighted close to the location Bourrett gave. You leave in one hour" he saw the two younger agents' relief and shared it "good luck."  
  
The three other agents left the room, Vaughn excusing himself and passing by the other terminals to return to his own, where Weiss was standing. Sydney watched him leave until she realised her father was watching her; before he could say anything she started talking. "What about mom?" no matter who Sark seemed to side with, he eventually returned to Irina Derevko, he might wander off at times but Sydney suspected, in his own way, Sark was still loyal to her mother. Jack didn't need to reply or shake his head; she saw in his face that there was no news. She was disappointed; whenever Irina was around things grew turbulent but she wanted to see her again, to talk and though Sydney would never admit it to anyone, she wanted to see what Derevko would do next. She could turn things upside down with hardly any apparent effort. Sydney pushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ear "I'd better get ready."  
  
She turned to leave when she heard Jack speak. "Irina will be found when she wants to be, I have no doubts that sooner or later she will show herself" that thought both delighted and unnerved him at the same time, that happened a lot in regard to Irina. She was like a crashing sea during a fearsome storm, nobody knew which way she would turn next.

**Ville Neuve, France  
**  
It was around 13 hours later when Jack, Sydney and Vaughn arrived in France with their contact, Jacque was no longer acting like Sark number 2, they were glad of that, as one was more than enough. Instead the black haired, green-eyed man appeared skittish, like a small animal that was unsure whether to stay or flee. Seeing Jack's stoic look did nothing to calm him, he paced up and down the living room of the small, one bedroom farmhouse. "If you don't stop walking up and down I will be forced to glue you to your seat" there was something in Jack's voice that made Bourrett think he would act upon his threat.  
  
Sydney and Vaughn wore matching smirks, it half looked like the enemy turned informant might sit on his hands to keep from fidgeting. "What can you tell us about the building?" Bourrett turned to the man that had spoken. He appeared glad to have a reason to look away from the man that watched him like a hawk. It was Vaughn that had asked the question.  
  
Bourrett didn't speak for a few moments. "I think the original building was built around –"he stopped when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Jack abruptly stand.  
  
"You've got to be kidding me" he spoke angrily. To Bourrett, Jack now seemed like a furious guard dog preparing to rip an intruder limb from limb.  
  
The Frenchman wisely darted from his seat and took several hurried steps back to distance himself from the other man. Sydney came between them "he meant surveillance wise" the brunette explained. This guy actually thought he could have been the next mastermind? Maybe Sloane had scared all the intelligence out of the guy. Finally understanding Jacque began to give the ins and outs of the house; in a few hours it would all be over.

Just a little note here, an Alias Roleplay site has recently opened, main characters are available. The RP is set during season 2. http:www.avidgamers.com/DescendDarkness/


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

**Ville Neuve, France**  
  
The black helicopter landed as the three agents and informant were exiting the farmhouse, the area was covered in darkness and no moon was out to help them see. They would have to count on Bourrett's knowledge of the area to guide them, understandably that didn't do much to ease any worries they might have had. The rotors gradually stopped and the pilot jumped out; one word from either of them and he would be back in the air to extract them. It would take them half an hour on foot to reach the building, being that it was in the middle of nowhere it would be too much of a risk to chance driving there, they could too easily be spotted. Wordlessly the four began moving away from the farmhouse, Bourrett led with Sydney and Vaughn behind him, while Jack brought up the rear.  
  
"By the time we reach the house the guards will have changed over" Bourrett called back to them in too loud a voice. "I told Sloane I had personal business to take care of in town, he isn't expecting me back in town until tomorrow afternoon at the latest."  
  
He didn't hear Jack walk up behind him and when he heard the hushed voice in his ear, the Frenchman jumped. "He may not expect to see you until tomorrow afternoon but if you speak much louder, he will hear you coming tonight" Bourrett got Jack's point. The poor guy, it looked like he couldn't quite decide whom he should be more afraid of: Arvin Sloane or Jack Bristow?  
  
"Are you positive Sloane didn't have you followed?" Vaughn questioned. They all doubted he trusted Jacque enough to allow the man to walk freely.  
  
Bourrett stopped for a second. "Of this I am certain" he assured them before climbing the rickety old fence that surrounded the farmhouse. At least it wasn't raining again, the grass, though still a little slippery in some places, was no longer so soggy that a person's boots would sink into the mud. The air was warm too and they wished for a breeze to cool them down as they trudged on.  
  
Bourrett was talking again, though in a lower voice, this time about his family. It seemed to calm the man and so Jack reluctantly let him rattle on. "good job they're not locked in a room together" Vaughn broke the silence that had formed at the back of the group.  
  
Sydney, who was glad for the start in conversation, grinned. "If they were, my dad would've throttled him hours ago."  
  
Vaughn glanced in the direction of Bourrett and Jack; the younger man had his arms outstretched as though describing something that was 'really...this big!' "Hell I would've throttled him hours ago, this guy never shuts up" Sydney laughed and her partner shot her a look. "What?"  
  
"You would throttle a guy for talking?" she giggled. They caught snatches of the other conversation, it sounded like Bourrett was talking about a fish he almost caught way back when.  
  
"Talking incessantly" he corrected. "I don't know how we survived the plane ride" Vaughn shook his head as he remembered.  
  
Sydney played along with the exaggeration and looked at him a little deviously. "There's still the flight back," she reminded him.  
  
"That was evil Bristow, don't remind me of that. Maybe we could persuade Dixon to allow us to sedate him on the return journey, get a bit of peace and quiet" altogether, not a bad idea. He was sure Jack would agree.  
  
Sydney nodded her agreement. "That isn't such a bad idea." Before they could speak further they heard a car engine, the sound coming closer. The noise seemed to be too loud in the otherwise quiet area. Vaughn and Sydney crouched low in the bushes and saw Jack pull Bourrett down seconds before the headlights lit up the grass in which they were situated. The engine choked and for a moment they thought the vehicle would break down; an exaggerated sigh of relief came from Bourrett when the car sped up. They slowly stood when it was out of sight.  
  
Vaughn's hand found its way into Sydney's hair, there was now a light breeze that blew it back off her face. "Straw..." he explained. He picked out a few offending pieces. "It just isn't you," he teased and moved his hand away, his arm falling back to his side, the straw floated to the grass.  
  
"Really?" I hear that looks in for spies this summer, scarecrow" she smirked. Vaughn raised his hand again; this time to his own hair where he felt pieces of straw. He brushed them off "am I good?" he checked.  
  
Unfortunately her father, telling them to hurry and move on, effectively stopped a smart retort. She just nodded an okay and the two, walking side by side, caught up to the remaining members of the team.  
  
Once they spotted Sloane they would contact the secondary unit that was waiting nearby, hidden amongst the bushes and trees a few miles from the house; initially it was Sloane that they wanted to capture but if they managed to trap Sark in the process, then that was an added bonus. The team of four could see the house up ahead, the lights inside the guard station dimly lit up the area. Bourrett had told them that Sloane had hired some people from town that had some experience as security guards; they had no clue who he really was though. That part sounded all too familiar. It was for that reason that they also carried tranquillizer guns. Though it would, they thought, be easy to differentiate between the professionals and the hired help. The Frenchman told the agents of a back way into the house, it was largely overgrown and security, he claimed, was virtually non-existent. Neither of them was comfortable that his information was sketchy at best, but they had to make do with what they had. Just because the security guards were amateurs didn't mean they wouldn't shoot first and ask questions later. Five minutes later and that wasn't a problem.  
  
Bourrett opened his mouth to start talking but was stopped by Jack holding up a hand to silence him. "From here on out, no more talking, and definitely no more shouting from one person to the next" to Sydney and Vaughn that was obvious, the warning was for Bourrett's benefit only.  
  
He nodded quickly and rose from his crouched position to continue onwards, it was growing colder and just then Jacque wanted nothing more than to be inside. The bushes around the perimeter fence provided sufficient cover as they hurried round the back of the house. He indicated the door they would be going through; only, unlike what he had told them, there were no overgrown bushes and thistles, the entryway had been cleared.  
  
Three glares were sent his way and the informant shrugged helplessly. A buzzing broke the silence. The door opened a crack and smoke billowed around it, the four watching pair of eyes saw it pass through a laser, evidently Sloane had upped security without Jacque's knowledge. Which wasn't exactly a hard feat.  
  
The smoker made to step outside and then cursed, next came the sound of a bleep and the laser became visible once more before it disengaged. The Bristow's and Vaughn didn't waste time. Sydney shot him with a dart in the shoulder while the remaining two agents slipped inside. Jack held the door open. The smoker dropped heavily to the floor, the cigarette fell from his yellow stained fingers and rolled into some long blades of grass, the embers glowed orange until Sydney stomped it out on her way through the door. Bourrett darted forward and almost tripped over the fallen man's stretched out left arm in his rush to get inside. He stopped himself from falling forward, and then the laser reactivated. It would only be deactivated by a code, and that was one thing they didn't have, their guide would be staying behind.  
  
A light came on automatically. It had been set that way but for a second they thought they had been caught. "Bourrett said this corridor would lead to a hall by the stairs" Vaughn whispered. "But then again, he also said the back entrance was easy access to the house."  
  
"Unfortunate but not entirely unexpected. Sloane must have had Bourrett followed after all, when he found out what he was up to Sloane took the necessary precautions" Jack replied. They moved fast but mostly quiet, but thus far it sounded as though no one was in that part of the house.  
  
They rounded a corner. "Which means he's expecting us" the remaining two agents shared Sydney's frustration. They had been so close. At least it felt like it, but while Bourrett was telling them about the building; Sloane and Sark were probably already making plans to leave. The house was unnaturally quiet.  
  
That is until they heard a familiar British accent. "You may want to check the basement" Sark's voice was heard via speakers that sounded throughout the house. "It's pointless searching for Mr. Sloane or myself, we are far from France now. You're merely wasting time" the speaker crackled and Sark paused. "You can speak quite freely," he added. The trio listened but did not answer; they weren't going to take Sark's word for it. They halted at the foot of the stairs and after checking all was clear began to climb. He spoke again "generally basements are beneath the ground floor so it really is quite pointless going upstairs" it was pretty satisfying hearing the hint of frustration in his voice.  
  
Jack indicated they should split up, he continued on up the stairs while Sydney and Vaughn started off in the direction of the bedrooms and study. "You know this could be a trap, right?" Vaughn checked. At Sydney's wordless nod he grew quiet for a second. "And if it isn't, he is in effect, helping us find something?"  
  
Again she nodded, this time voicing her opinion too. "I'm guessing it's some kind of trap."  
  
"I assure you it isn't, Sydney" Sark disagreed. "If we wanted to capture you we would have done so at the little farmhouse Bourrett took you to, and if we wanted to kill you, you wouldn't be wandering around the house...in the wrong direction I might add." They where currently heading in the direction of the master bedroom.  
  
"Instead of playing little games, Sark, why don't you just tell us where to go? If you do insist on helping us" there was no trace of anger or annoyance in Jack's voice, he wouldn't give Sark the satisfaction. He had reached the top of the stairs and was checking the first of the two doors. It was unlocked. All was clear and so Jack stepped inside, he surveyed the room from the door; the light from the corridor flooded in and lit up the three cells. It was chilly but the cold didn't penetrate the thick material of the clothes he wore.  
  
"You won't find anything in there," Sark announced. "Not anymore, anyway, had you arrived yesterday you would have found our guest; though at that point you would still have been trying to verify Bourrett's story. Good job I was spotted nearby or you wouldn't be here now," he told them innocently.  
  
It was Vaughn that spoke next. He and Sydney had left the master bedroom, which was devoid of anything useful or interesting "just out of interest, why are you helping us?" they moved into the next room. So far they had been met with no opposition but neither agent dropped their guard.  
  
"All will become clear" was all Sark said in reply. He was giving them a little bit at a time, drawing them in and keeping them interested, though none showed it.  
  
Jack had moved farther into the cell room. He took the remaining mattress in the third cell as a sign that it had been occupied. It was impossible to tell how long ago that had been; there was no way to check if Sark had been telling them truth. He moved swiftly towards the next room, the door of which he found locked. It wasn't too difficult to open; it swung back on its hinges after he pushed it. Jack walked inside, there were plug outlets around the wall, desks at the sides, the curtains were closed and the room was otherwise empty. Jack's concentration was interrupted by Sark "you may want to leave there...now, preferably." A few seconds later the room

_Alias RP – Jack, Sloane, Sark, Dixon and Will are still available and needed. The first mission will be starting soon. _


	3. Chapter Three

_Jack had moved farther into the cell room. He took the remaining mattress in the third cell as a sign that it had been occupied. It was impossible to tell how long ago that had been; there was no way to check if Sark had been telling them truth. He moved swiftly towards the next room, the door of which he found locked. It wasn't too difficult to open; it swung back on its hinges after he pushed it. Jack walked inside, there were plug outlets around the wall, desks at the sides, the curtains were closed and the room was otherwise empty. Jack's concentration was interrupted by Sark "you may want to leave there...now, preferably." A few seconds later the room exploded.  
_  
**Chapter Three  
**  
The door to the study was pushed open, most things had been taken out, a desk remained and a chair had been pushed underneath it, it wasn't very light in the room but it had a warm feel to it due to the deep red it had been painted. There were shelves with a few books remaining and these were scattered in no particular order; Vaughn and Sydney flicked through them as they listened to Sark instructing Jack. Pictures were hung on the wall, scenic paintings of mountains and the French countryside. It was what Sark said next that got them actually listening to him properly, and not just as background sound.  
  
"You may want to leave there...now, preferably" they heard him say over the speaker. The explosion was, naturally, unexpected and both the younger agents jumped, startled. Sydney practically threw the book she had been browsing through back on the shelf before darting from the room.. "I did warn him."  
  
"Sark shut up!" Sydney shouted before calling out to her father.

They had reached the top of the stairs when a muffled voice called out to them. "I'm fine" the door of the room Jack had been in was balanced precariously against the frame, Jack was just getting to his feet when they saw him. The right shoulder of his coat was torn, blood smearing the tattered edges. He saw Sydney and Vaughn's worried faces and calmly brushed off their concerns. "It's nothing."  
  
Sark's voice was heard again. The three agents were seriously starting to contemplate destroying the speakers. "Sloane says hello...if he really wanted you dead the house would have been rigged to explode the second you stepped inside." The speakers become muffled and then he spoke again "you were very close before...but for now I must be leaving" everything grew quet again.  
  
"We don't need Sark's help to find a basement that may or may not hold something of value to us" Jack reminded them. He pushed past the broken door and made for the stairs, his two companions were halfway down.  
  
"Are you sure you're alright?" Sydney looked back at her father, watching him carefully for any sign that he was masking an injury so they could continue on.  
  
He didn't seem too bad. "I've suffered worse than being hit by a door. I'll live" Jack answered nonchalantly before stepping to the front, leading the way into the study. "Access to the basement will probably be in here, Sloane's private office, but the original will be around somewhere" he deduced before once again leaving the two of them alone.  
  
The master bedroom had already been checked and Sydney and Vaughn were in the study so Jack began searching the second bedroom, nearest the bathroom. A single bed was next the right wall, the white sheet and thin purple blanket had been neatly folded and placed at the foot of the bed. Curtains blew away from the window, which was open slightly; the room was cool and the breeze refreshing. A desk with oval mirror attached was against the back wall and a chest of drawers beside that, a chair was tucked underneath the desk and a thin black coat draped over the seat. He could smell a trace of perfume in the air but it was fading, even quicker with the open window. There was something familiar about the room but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Seeing nothing amiss or out of place he exited the room, looking up and down the corridor he spotted the door leading underneath the stairs.  
  
The door, surprisingly, was unlocked. Immediately in front were boxes of various sizes, he opened one of them and peered inside. It was full of Styrofoam and scrunched up paper, but nothing else. Jack pushed through the boxes, they weighed next to nothing, they were purely superficial. A voice crackled through Jack's radio "we found something" Vaughn reported.  
  
Jack responded straight away. "Me too" he spied, through the piles of boxes, the top of a door.  
  
"We're going to check this out" Vaughn responded.  
  
"We'll meet back here in ten minutes" Jack instructed and walked towards the inner door. It was locked and Jack made quick work of getting through. It was dark and he switched on the torch he had carried in with him, it was eerily silent down the staircase and the sound of Jack's footsteps echoed. He reached out and felt yet another closed door, this time to his right. The lights inside were on and as Jack entered he regarded the room grimly "some things never change" he mused. Everything within the 'conversation room' he had seen before, some of the instruments had been used on him before, but that was something Jack would rather not remember. He backed out of the room, directly in front of the staircase was a wall, concrete and grey like the outside and the first floor. He turned around to walk back upstairs when he felt cool air blowing onto the back of his neck and head. He turned back around and stared at the wall, there was the tiniest of cracks at the top, which he traced with his fingers. It was a false wall.  
  
"There's nothing down here" this time it was Sydney that reported her and Vaughn's progress, or lack thereof. "Just a wall."  
  
Jack had retreated back into the 'conversation room' and was looking around the area closest to the door with a careful, well-trained eye. "Look carefully..." he spoke into the radio "there should be a button or switch somewhere." As he told his daughter that, he noticed a switch, which wasn't that unusual, except it was supposedly a light switch, and he had already spotted the real one on the other side of the room when he first walked in. He flicked it upwards and heard the false wall slide noisily open. "Go back to the study, look around the door for a false light switch." A few minutes later Sydney responded that he was right, and they were going to check out whatever was at the bottom of the stairs.  
  
Jack was already down there. Past the 'wall' was a corridor, he roughly estimated that it was about ten foot wide and twenty foot long, and factory lights lit it up. So far the 'basement' was uninteresting and Jack wondered what it was that Sark thought they would want to see. It had crossed his mind that Sark was just playing them. The only way to find out was to continue searching. But then, that wasn't easy when he didn't know what it was he should be trying to find. There was another door around twelve feet in front of him, on the left, and he made for that. Seconds later and Jack came to a stop before it, he couldn't explain how but he **knew** someone was in there. He was surprised to find the door unlocked, surely if someone was in there, Sloane wouldn't be so lax in his security. In the left hand corner of the room was a key and Jack picked it up, it was pitch black in there and only by the light of the torch did he see the small item. He swung the torch to the right. At first he didn't see anything, it was the soft sound of breathing that made him step closer to the bars of the cell. "There's someone down here" he said into the radio.  
  
"Anyone we know?" Sydney asked. The younger Bristow and Vaughn had come upon another, smaller room. It had been a Lab, which was evident by the few remaining beakers and test tubes, everything else had been cleared out. "We're heading your way."  
  
Jack didn't say anything; as yet he was not close enough to the prone form, whose back was facing him, to make a positive identification. He moved cautiously, conscious that this could be a trick. Then the person moved, having heard him, and was trying to get a better look at him. They hissed as though in pain. Jack began unlocking the door, the torch lighting up the floor, he was prepared for the prisoner to attack. A hand clutched one of the bars, a nail scarped on the metal causing rust flakes to fall to the ground. "Get me...out of here" a familiar voice ordered.  
  
His hand stilled, the key still in the lock, Jack shone the torch into the face of the prisoner. She turned away, blocking her eyes from the light; it hurt her eyes for she had become accustomed to the dark. She stepped back, watching him curiously, as though unsure of whether he was a friend or foe. Then she heard someone else, a female voice. "Who is it?"  
  
Jack tore his eyes away from her to see his daughter and Vaughn standing by the door. "It's your mother."  
  
Irina eyed them inquisitively as they conversed in hushed tones; she looked at each of them carefully. "Am I supposed to know who you are?" all three agents swung to face her again. From the looks on their faces she guessed she should have some recollection of them. But all she could see in her mind; were blurry faces.


	4. Chapter Four

Jack tore his eyes away from her to see his daughter and Vaughn standing by the door. "It's your mother."  
  
Irina eyed them inquisitively as they conversed in hushed tones; she looked at each of them carefully. "Am I supposed to know who you are?" all three agents swung to face her again. From the looks on their faces she guessed she should have some recollection of them. But all she could see in her mind; were blurry faces.  
  
Chapter Four  
  
They each looked at each other, assessing the strange situation that they now found themselves in. It was quiet and the silence grew, the feeling in the room tense. Sydney and Vaughn didn't know what to say, they certainly weren't expecting this, Jack regarded Irina coolly, and he did not believe a word of it. Irina's gaze fell to the key that was still in the lock where Jack had left it, she moved closer to it and slipped her arm through the bars to rest on the key which she started to turn, she watched each person closely, inspecting them as she did so. As if he had just come out of a deep trance, Jack grabbed Irina's wrist, not too roughly but enough to halt her actions. Her head snapped up and she glared at him fiercely through the darkness.  
  
"Is this some new type of torment? You come in here as though to get me out and then become my new captors?" her cold tone was laced with bitterness, she pulled her arm away from him and folded her arms as Jack pocketed the key. She berated herself for getting her hopes up that these people were here to take her from her prison.  
  
Jack's eyes stayed on her, in fact he couldn't seem to look away, he told himself that it was just in case she tried anything, in case she might try to free herself. He showed barely any emotion though as his heart beat fast and his mind buzzed with thoughts, all swimming around for his attention. If this was some game of Irina's, what could she have to gain from the pretense? It was likely that Sark had lied to them and Sloane waiting around the corner to trap them. As though reading his mind Sydney left the room to look around the corridor and returned a few seconds later and nodded, indicating that all was clear. But then again, Sloane and Sark could just as easily be waiting outside the building. He entertained the idea that maybe she truly couldn't remember them, maybe even herself, but then she did seem to have Irina's mannerisms. They eyed each other as though they were attempting to read each others thoughts, neither one willing to break eye contact first.  
  
Sydney coughed and walked closer, she looked at her mother in confusion and worry, worry at where she was and that she saw her own daughter as a complete stranger. A stranger that she believed was making her stay locked up. She had coughed to break their concentration but they didn't move an inch or even acknowledge that she was there. "Hey..." she spoke quietly "we need to get out of here. When Sark wanted us to find something, he meant mom...he must have. Which means that in his own little, warped way he helped us. We need to find out why" her logic seemed to finally get Jack to listen to her and he nodded. "We need to get her out of here...to...somewhere..." she trailed off. Where would she go? CIA custody seemed highly probable. Though Sydney sincerely doubted that Irina would be willing to trade one cage for another. Then again, the hospital seemed like the best bet at the moment, that way they could determine if Irina was faking. But surely she would have accounted for that.  
  
The key came out of Jack's pocket again and Irina regarded it like a cat might a mouse. If his wife was coming out of that cell then Jack was going to be the one to make sure she didn't go anywhere without his say so. "Can you please stop talking to me as though I'm not in the room?" Irina spoke again though this time to Sydney. "It's worse than being kept in here and not talked to at all." Sydney looked at her apologetically, which surprised Irina, if these people were going to be her new captors then surely they wouldn't be sorry about anything they did. She heard Sydney say something about her mother, she didn't comment but merely remembered and stored the information away.  
  
"You really don't know who we are?" a very skeptical Jack asked her. He apprehensively unlocked and opened the cell door and stepped back, but not too far back, to let her through.  
  
"If I did, I would not have asked if I was supposed to know you" Irina responded. She kept her eyes on him, the leader of the group, as she exited the cell. "Is it day or night outside?" she asked them.  
  
Vaughn looked at his watch and replied. "Early morning, it'll still be dark outside."  
  
Irina nodded her thanks and caught Jack watching her again, carefully like a specimen under a microscope. "Does it really matter what time it is?" Jack asked as motioned for her to walk forward. Something that she was more than happy to do, she was out of the cell; she wasn't going to complain.  
  
"I've been in the dark for a while, my eyes will have to become adjusted to the light again and I'd rather not walk outside while the sun is blazing" she explained and then looked back at the torch he carried. "So I would also appreciate it if you stop flashing that in my face." He turned the torch away, he felt like the principal had just scolded him.  
  
Jack wasn't going to let Irina out of his sight, but Sydney wanted to speak to her alone. They settled for the two women walking side by side along the corridor with Jack following closely behind and Vaughn taking point. Once they were outside Jack was planning on being a lot more careful with her, with all the fields around she could go anywhere. He blocked out Sydney and Irina's conversation, respecting his daughters wishes that this was a private conversation and she didn't want her father butting in with his input. "So, you're Sydney, right?" Irina checked. She had heard Jack mention her name. Things didn't seem familiar to her with these people but at the same time there was something at the back of her mind that was trying to come forward but no matter how hard she tried she was drawing a blank. It was beginning to annoy her.  
  
Sydney nodded; this was beyond strange. She was introducing herself to her own mother! "Do you know how you got here?" these were questions Irina was going to be asked eventually but Sydney wanted to hear them first, from the woman herself.  
  
"I think I do" she looked confused, something Sydney couldn't remember her mother ever being. Not when she was a child, not when she was in CIA custody and not when people were hunting her down. "I have vague recollections of someone coming to see me...I don't know his name but I know that I should" Irina decided that forcing information wasn't going to accomplish anything so she should just wait. She had a feeling that she was supposed to be good at that. She couldn't explain why just then, but talking to Sydney seemed so natural to her, almost as though she was used to it. "We have met before, haven't we?" Irina glanced at the younger woman as she tucked her hair back and looked at the ground, obviously thinking about how to answer the question.  
  
Sydney had no clue how she was supposed to act around this woman. As a child she saw her as the most amazing and caring person in the world, her mother. When she found out the truth, she hated her and wanted her dead. In CIA custody things had been difficult between them but they had forged, what Sydney believed, a pretty good, if rocky relationship. Then Irina had escaped and Sydney was confused, wanting to hate her mother but hoping there was a reason for what she did. But this woman was new; she had no recollection of any of her past deeds. How could she hate a woman who didn't think she had done any wrong? But how could she be a daughter to the woman when she didn't even know she had a child?  
  
How could she get answers to all her questions?  
  
Irina stopped and turned around; Jack did likewise and eyed her warily. "You need to get your shoulder seen to" she commented. "There must be some kind of first aid kit around here somewhere, the wound is bad and if it isn't treated it will become infected" Irina didn't even know why she cared.  
  
"My shoulder is fine and of no concern to yours" the reply was automatic and he would probably have said the same to anyone else that asked, save Sydney.  
  
Irina rolled her eyes and continued walking, exasperated. "If it's fine then stop wincing," she said curtly.  
  
Jack bit back an indignant and cutting retort; even as a supposed amnesiac the woman could still bait him. She was infuriating him, but he couldn't help but smile. He radioed the Beta team and quickly informed them of the current events, it would be at least ten minutes before they were extracted. Jack had already decided the hospital would be the next stop, for himself and Irina. They came to a stop beside the staircase.  
  
"I'll look for something to stop the bleeding" Vaughn announced. He caught Jack roll his eyes and held back a smirk, he was tiring of all the fussing around over his wound.  
  
Sydney's eyes moved from one parent to the other, she stood up from where she had sat on the stairs. "I'll help him" she used the lame and often used excuse to leave Irina and Jack alone, but only for a few minutes, she didn't want to return to a blood bath, there wouldn't be enough bandages in the house to deal with that.  
  
"Are they together?" Irina asked once Sydney and Vaughn were out of earshot.  
  
Jack's expression looked solemn as he remembered everything Sydney and Vaughn had gone through "no." There was quiet for a few seconds before he carried on "why do you ask?" he was starting to get suspicious if Irina's memory loss.  
  
"Apparently I'm forgetful but I'm not stupid. If they're not together now, they will be" she already suspected something had happened.  
  
Jack stepped closer to her, his expression almost warning her. Most people would have stepped back but Irina stubbornly held her ground, she wasn't any weaker than he was and she wasn't going to act like it. I don't know what plan you, Sark and Sloane have concocted, but we are not going to fall for it. You may as well give up now" he finished.  
  
She stepped closer to him and he could feel her warm breath on his face, she sounded out each word precisely "I don't know what you're talking about" Irina responded. He was infuriating her, and it seemed so familiar.  
  
There was no way Jack was going to let Irina have the last word, her leaned in closer, the waters becoming dangerous. "I don't believe you" at the last moment he moved back and stopped when he was a couple of feet away. He could feel her watching him.  
  
Her heard her sigh and smiled, her thought he was getting through to her. "I don't care if you believe me or not, and I suspect even if you had solid proof there would still be doubt in your mind" she was starting to get the idea that it was pointless arguing with him. Irina turned away and this time it was she that could feel Jack watching her, she laid a hand on the banister and climbed the first step, intending on sitting down. She heard him walk towards her and she stifled a laugh, where did he expect her to go from the top floor? On the roof or maybe out of the window? An all too familiar feeling of dizziness washed over her, through the walking and the banter the headache had been growing, it was another reason Irina didn't want to go into the daylight; her headache would only grow.  
  
She heard Jack calling out her name and the last thought she had was so that's what my name is... 


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

"What happened?" there was the sound of running feet pounding down the corridor, two sets that slowed to a stop.

There was a pause and the familiar voice of Jack Bristow broke the silence. "I don't know," he sounded indignant as he looked at his daughters' look of uncertainty upon hearing his reply. Jack was knelt on the ground, unconsciously, as he spoke, his thumb stroked the top of her hair, and her head was lying on his lap, eyes tight shut.

"She's waking up" that was the third voice, Vaughn. He sounded indifferent, neither overly concerned nor completely uncaring. He was still uncertain about Irina; it was one of the points that he and Jack wholeheartedly agreed on. The voices sounded closer then as the three people knelt next to the prone form of Irina.

"We were talking and she just collapsed" now there was a man that sounded a little worried, confused certainly. Her eyes fluttered open and took in the faces of the two men and woman, Jack moved his arm forward and his hand now came to rest on her forehead. "She's burning up," he told Sydney and Vaughn. "Can you stand?" he directed the question at the now more alert woman. She nodded groggily and stood on her own, not allowing the others to help her. She leant against the banister and masked the pain she felt by looking behind her to the bathroom so they couldn't see her face.

"Did you find a first aid kit?" Irina asked before they could begin the questioning that would not doubt come in a minute or two. She felt like she had just woken from a bizarre dream but instead of the events fading from her mind upon waking everything was crystal clear. Sloane had warned her of this, had gloated as he told her what the poison he had administered would do to her. He had let her know that an antidote was within arms reach, literally. He had left the bottle just outside the bars of her cell while he lazed back in his comfortable leather chair. The left hand that was resting on the banister clenched the wood, the only visible outward sign that she was angry. Angry was a gross understatement. "The wound will need stitching, Jack. Either I do it now or you wait until we reach the hospital, but the longer it's left the higher the risk of infection" it sounded like she was just brushing off what had happened a few minutes earlier, she definitely didn't look like a woman that had just collapsed.

To Jack she didn't look like the woman he had just let out of the underground cell, his suspicions rose with each passing second. She was radiating authority and he didn't like that one bit, "I'm well aware of the risks" he answered a little sharply, considering she was talking about his well being. "And no offence but I'm not letting you anywhere near me with a needle" she turned around and he saw her roll her eyes, both aware that he was being stupidly stubborn.

"That isn't what you said thirty two years ago" Irina retorted without thinking, she spoke of an old memory that flashed into her mind.

Sydney and Vaughn looked at them both in interest, waiting to see where the verbal sparring would take the two others. It hit Sydney first "you remember something that happened thirty two years ago? Five minutes ago you didn't even know who we were" it wasn't only Jack now that had the feeling that Irina had pulled one over on them again.

The second she had mentioned the years old incident he was going to come back with a somewhat harsh comment, perhaps something along the lines of "in those days I trusted you" and then he too realised that something was wrong with what she had said. Jack was ready to throw her back into the cell he had broken her out of. It was quite simple actually, he didn't want to hear whatever story she was about to come up with to explain away her obscure behaviour because, and in all likelihood it was a pack of lies. Nobody would blame him if he took her back to her prison and left her there. But an annoying voice at the back of his active mind told him to wait just a second, to hear her out because she might end up telling the truth. As much as Jack would love to believe that everything she said was an untruth, he couldn't because it was not true. It made it hard to hate her.

"Irina..." he prompted her to speak in a warning tone of voice. His patience wasn't everlasting, he would take her back to the cell screaming and kicking if that was what it took, no matter what the little voice at the back of his mind said.

She stood defiantly for a second; she was not in CIA custody now, he couldn't make her give him information. But then Irina decided that she owed him her co-operation, at least for now, he had helped her after all. Without him she would still be trapped, herself on minute and a woman without a past or foreseeable future the next. She would give him the short version; tell him only what he needed to know. The cliff notes version of the truth. "As I'm sure you've gathered by now I was imprisoned by Sloane..." even in the dark of the basement the speakers had been placed, even though she had not understood Sark's one way conversation then, now she did. "You don't need to know why I was there --."

"Yes we do" Jack interrupted sternly. He wanted to know everything.

Irina's answer was short and curt. "No you don't, now you wanted to know what happened earlier and I will tell you but if you interrupt I will leave you with the speculations and theories that I have no doubt you are coming up with even as I speak." She waited for him to answer and was satisfied when he grudgingly motioned for her to continue. He wanted to know everything, Irina had known that he would but he would rather learn a little bit than nothing at all. Though she was ready for him to try and weasel more answers from her later on. "Sloane wants something from me, something which I refused to give him. He tried numerous ways to obtain the information he desired but none of them worked. Finally, yesterday, he tried something different...I don't know what it was exactly; it was a concoction that he has had scientists working on for a while now. I don't know what was in it exactly but it was administered via injection." Jack remembered the cuts on her arms, he had seen them when she had collapsed, and he figured she must have got them from fighting whomever it was that gave her the injection. He couldn't help feeling strangely proud- -she would have given them hell.

"There's a Lab underneath Sloane's study. It's empty now but that must've been where they were working" Sydney spoke up, voicing her findings.

Irina nodded; she had seen it when she had first been taken to the basement. "The effects are...painful," she admitted. "It comes and goes but it gets progressively worse – he was hoping that to save myself I would tell him what he wanted to know, he left the antidote just far enough away that I couldn't reach it" she saw it again, the cell, the untouched food, the vial of clear liquid just a centimetre or two out of her reach. She tensed for a second, breathing deeply "up until then this concoction was untested, eventually one of the scientists would have been a guinea pig but there wasn't time for that...there was a side effect" she smiled, it was a most ironic side effect and the look of utter frustration and anger on Sloane's face when he had found out was one to relish. If ever there was a moment to have a camera handy.

Jack as well as Sydney and Vaughn had an idea of what the side effect was but they let Irina continue the tale uninterrupted. "It produces severe memory loss...I don't know how it works but it comes and goes, when it happens I know that I'm supposed to remember things...it's as though the memories are right there but I can't reach them" she struggled to explain what happened, it was so frustrating. Through the years she had had to become many people, to have new identities. To wake up and have none at all was a living nightmare. It scared her.

"I started to pretend I couldn't remember when I actually could, it was easy, Sloane had no way of knowing if I was making it up or not. And then an hour or so before you came he and Sark came to me and said they were leaving. At that point I truly had no idea who they were..." she had known instinctively that they were more foe than friend but even so she remembered not wanting them to leave her, they had been her only connection to herself and then they had walked away...

They watched Irina carefully, trying to decide if what she said was true or if she was lying. It appeared as though Irina was telling them the truth but her was a woman that had to lie frequently, to make things up, it was part of what she did. She had built lie upon lie with Jack for ten years. Jack was watching Irina pretty closely; he saw the range of emotion that flashed across her eyes. He still didn't want to believe that she was telling them the truth; it was simpler to believe she had lied. It made it easier to see her as the enemy.

While Vaughn and Sydney had been looking for the first aid kit they had relayed what had happened to base ops. The helicopter was on its way to pick them up; it would be there within a couple of more minutes. Pretty soon Irina would be back in CIA custody, it would be a repeat performance of the last time. "You'll both be taken to the hospital, once you've been cleared to leave we'll head back to LA" Vaughn spoke to Jack and Irina, the latter of which began to shake her head.

"I'm not going back to CIA custody" she steadfastly refused that. They had expected her to so it came as no surprise, if they were in her position they would not have been jumping at the chance either.

"You don't have a choice" Vaughn responded. He looked to Jack to see him step forward towards Irina who watched her husband warily.

"There is always a choice Agent Vaughn" was Irina's reply. She had expected this; she had not seriously believed that she would be allowed to leave.

Jack began to speak. He had her in his grasp there was no way he was going to let her go, he would not let her out of his sight. "Fine, we'll go to the hospital and take it from there" Jack made it sound like there would be options.

Irina wanted to believe that but she knew it wasn't. "I have no reason to trust you," she didn't sound harsh or angry, merely resigned to the fact.

Jack's gaze grew cold at her words; it was like a slap in the face. She could not trust him? "Then we're both in the same boat" was his caustic reply. It was like they were back to square one, trading insults, another round in the battle of wits and words. They could hear the helicopter now; it was landing and Vaughn excused himself to go outside. Jacque was still out there, no doubt wandering around panicking about what was going on inside. They would need to speak to him further and then the Frenchman would be held in custody while it was decided what to do with him.

Sydney stepped closer to her parents. She glanced at each of them and in tangent they turned their heads to face her, the youngest Bristow looked at them sternly. "Stop it" she ordered and walked after Vaughn. Her parents were standing in the same room as one another, she had found her mother again and though Sydney didn't know how she felt about that she wasn't going to stand by and listen to them bait each other again.

Irina made to walk next when Jack's hand found it's way to her arm, he pulled her back, effectively stopping her from going anywhere. He looked at her questioningly "you mentioned, fleetingly, that it will get progressively worse. How much worse?"

She thought back on not so long ago, his hand on her forehead checking her temperature, he actually looked worried and then the cold, calm and detached Jack had returned. And now? A mixture of both, or maybe it was just morbid curiosity on his part. "I can't remember" it was an obvious lie and it was plain she would use the side effect to her advantage, as with Sloane, no one would know when she meant it or not. But Jack knew. He had seen the slight movements that told him she was in pain. "Jack..." he paused and waited for her to continue, "I don't want to wake up in CIA custody and have no idea why I'm there" she looked away form him them and carried on walking in the direction that Vaughn and Sydney had gone before her, Jack followed closely behind. The admission, coming from Irina, could have meant anything but he had seen her in the cell before when she had no memories. Jack could not be sure but he thought she was telling him that that part of her, the amnesiac that she had no control over, would be afraid.

Jack did not want her to be, he wanted to keep her safe. He was going to wring Sloane's neck.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six **

The hospital loomed ahead of the five people in the helicopter, ten minutes later and it landed on the helipad and Jack, Irina, Sydney and Vaughn got out, and ducking under the still spinning rotors made their way to the roof access into the hospital. The men and women of the beta team would be arriving shortly and they would inconspicuously guard the exits, stopping Irina from attempting escape and to make sure Sloane or Sark did not try to enter. It was not likely that they would risk it but stranger things had happened and the CIA agents were to keep an eye out for them as a precaution. They were seen to immediately, Jack was taken to a separate treatment room and before he left he made sure Sydney and Vaughn watched his wife, he was uneasy letting her out of his site but if he started to refuse help himself or asked the Doctor to wait questions would be asked that he wasn't allowed to answer. Originally they were just going to get Jack's wound seen to but after Irina's collapse it seemed prudent to wait a while, if it happened again they did not want to be in mid air with no clue what to do.

The time ticked by far too slowly for Jack's liking, he alternated between watching the black haired intern clean and then stitch his wound to the clock on the wall behind him; he ignored her when she told him to sit still every time he craned his neck to check the time. It felt longer than five minutes. Before entering the hospital a change of clothes had been issued, it would cause too much unwanted attention if they marched in wearing fatigues. The Intern at least did not think it odd that his clothes weren't torn, or bloodied due to the gash underneath the pale blue shirt that Jack now wore. He wished she would hurry up; evidently she was going slowly to avoid making a mistake. Next time maybe, just maybe, he would take Irina up on her offer of help. But that was probably just his impatience talking. The young girl made polite conversation as she continued her work and he replied her question with short answers, making up his story as they went along and committing it to memory should he be asked similar things again later.

He was growing more impatient as the minutes passed by, it wasn't that he did not think Sydney and Vaughn couldn't keep an eye on Irina, it was just that she had a way, despite all of her lies, of making people eventually trust her. Especially now. Despite the fury of her amnesiac self she had had an innocence about her, something he would never normally associate with Irina. It was for that same reason that now she was even more untrustworthy, she would use the so called side-effect to her own gain. She would be watched at all times.

* * *

Irina looked about the examination room. That Doctor had ushered Sydney and Vaughn out of the room, telling them politely but firmly to wait on the chairs in the corridor. The Doctor himself had stepped outside a few minutes before; holding in his tanned and wrinkled hand three vials of her blood. The room was the same as any other though in this there was a watercolour on the back wall that brightened the otherwise plain white room, the smell was the same, that distinct hospital odour, and though the voices were different the conversations were much the same as in any other hospital. The door was ajar and she hopped off the bed to look outside, she had long ceased to feel dizzy after having blood taken, and wooziness she did feel was put down to the poison doing it's work. She heard a phone ringing and seconds later instructions were being given to the caller on how to reach the hospital. Irina pushed the door open and watched a dopey looking patient be pushed past her on a gurney. She wasn't planning on escaping but the thought had crossed her mind; she was left all by herself and the coast was clear. Even as she stepped back into her room she was planning how an escape might be possible, knowing Agents were posted at all possible exits. It was so tempting.

No sooner had Irina turned back the bed, leaving the door to swing shut, did she hear it open again and in the wall picture she saw the reflection of her daughter. "I don't know if you're thirsty but I brought a drink anyway" Sydney stood, waiting awkwardly for a response or any sign that she had been heard. When Irina turned and looked at her. She smiled, visibly relieved. Sydney couldn't be sure anymore if it was her mother she was talking to.

Irina took the drink; the orange juice was ice cool. "Come to make sure I haven't escaped?" she asked without anger before taking a sip of her drink. Her mouth and throat were bone dry and the liquid was a welcome relief.

"No" Sydney hurriedly responded. It was obvious from the speed of her answer that she had been checking up on Irina, using the drink as an excuse. She had not expected her mother to still be in the hospital, let alone the room. She had been watching from the corridor, along with Vaughn, to make sure Irina did not slip out. She would find some way Sydney knew, "how are you?"

Irina sat down in the chair this time instead of the bed. She felt so tired and if she lay down she ran the risk of falling asleep, and Irina did not want that. If she woke she had no idea beforehand of knowing who she would be. "Better" it wasn't a complete untruth.

Sydney looked on dubiously, she knew without a doubt that her mother was keeping something from her. "Mom" she said in the same tone that had been used on her as a child when her parents knew she was keeping something from them.

Irina smirked and shook her head; she almost forgot how perceptive Sydney could be. "You remember a time when you were five years old, you were playing in the garden when the tow brothers from three doors down kicked their ball and it hit you in the stomach, knocking you down?" she asked.

Sydney nodded and walked to the bed to sit opposite Irina. She wondered where this trip down memory lane was going. "Yeah I remember, I was aching for about a week afterwards. They kicked that ball hard, it really hurt" she remembered, and then realised why it had been brought up. "You'll get better" she added convincingly, now it was Irina that look disbelieving, but through outward appearances she did not look afraid with what was happening to her. "I remember wondering what happened to the brothers, the next day they just disappeared" Sydney laughed and looked sheepish. "There was this old lady that lived nearby and all the kids thought she hung the naughty children from her washing line in the garden. Some places had the haunted house or the cat lady; we had the woman with the washing line. I thought you'd taken the brothers to her" Irina laughed at that, at the tales that kids could come up with.

"Did you find out what really happened to them?"

"Yes, their sister told me about a week later that they had just gone to camp" Sydney remembered her innocent and younger self being terribly worried for days that the police would take her mother away from her for giving the boys to the scary lady; she had been so relieved upon finding out the truth of the matter.

"I knew her actually and she was a sweet old lady, her name was Sally Wood. She was neither scary nor had bad children hung on her washing line" she chuckled. The Doctor returned then, his face a picture of confusion. He motioned for Sydney to come outside and he followed her out, closing the door behind them.

"I would like to keep your mother here for observation" he told Sydney, "It was very unusualâ€we were talking one minute and the next she had no idea how she came to be in the hospital. I started to explain the situation to her when, all of a sudden, she was herself again. She made no mention of what had occurred" Sydney had never seen a man look so mystified and she couldn't really blame him.

And now she knew what it was that Irina had kept from her in the examination room, though she didn't know why. Her mother had to have known what had happened but chose to keep it to herself. "I don't known what my dad would have to say about that, our flight leaves in a couple of hours" Sydney lied, putting on a worried yet clueless persona. "I'll have to talk to him" she made an excuse to leave and when she looked back the Doctor had trotted off down the corridor to see to his other patients. Sydney debated over whether to confront her mother and weighed up the pros and cons of doing so, in the end she decided to talk to her father first and told a reluctant Vaughn to watch over Irina.

* * *

Jack was on the phone when Sydney stopped outside his room, the Intern had left and he was alone. She was getting ready to remind him that mobile phones weren't allowed to be used inside a hospital when she took note of his icy tone as he spoke to whomever was on the line, her first thought was that he was arguing with Kendall over what to do with Irina. And then she actually listened properly to the one sided conversation. She hadn't meant to, it just ended up that way, Sydney did not want to interrupt and the best course of action was to just wait in the corridor to finish speaking, the only way to know when he was done was to listen in on the private conversation. Much like she had done sometimes as a child.

"You are either not listening to me or not understanding me: I will never work with you, I've done that before and it is a mistake I will not repeat" Jack's voice left no argument.

But whomever Jack was talking to was not giving up easily. "I know a part of you still cares about her – it's pathetic really, but it also helps me get what I want. You will help me because it's the only way to save Irina's life" Sloane said, gloating as he sat back in the black chair of the private jet that he had chartered. "She's dying Jack, and I have the means to save her lifeâ€but as you know my help comes with a price."

Jack did not answer straight away and his hand tightened around the small phone. "I'm listening," he said through gritted teeth.

Sloane smirked. He held up his wine glass for a refill and waited until the hired help had left before he continued talking; he didn't mean to keep Jack hanging but it was quite satisfying to know that he had no choice but to wait until Sloane wanted to speak. "Listen carefully because I will only offer this to you once"

Jack's face steadily hardened as his old friend outlined his plan; five minutes passed before he switched off the phone, the conversation ending with Sloane giving Jack a number to reach him with a decision. It was an impossible decision to make. "Dad?" Sydney pushed open the door and went inside, looking at him questioningly.

He spun around, not expecting her to be there, Jack looked like the kid that just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long – who were you talking to?" Sydney asked, she hoped he would tell her something, it was bad enough one parent keeping important secrets.

As it turned out Jack seemed to be in a telling mood. He stepped by Sydney and closed the door to ensure that they had some privacy "that was Sloane. He must be monitoring the hospital because he knows we're here. It is imperative that we leave immediately. What did the Doctor say?"

Sydney wanted to know more but sensed the urgency in his voice and understood his need to leave. "He wants to keep mom here for observation, I told him I would talk to you first" she gave him the quick rundown "Vaughn's watching her now."

* * *

Vaughn walked up and down in front of the door to Irina's room, he checked the time on his watch and wondered what was taking Sydney so long. He was quite satisfied to wait outside but if Irina got out somehow then Jack would, probably literally, have his head. It was that which made him push open the door and hesitantly check the room within, the feeling of walking into a Lion's den came to mind; only with a Lion you pretty much knew where you stood. Irina was sat cross-legged on the bed, her eyes closed and back straight. Where usually her posture and face would be the epitome of peacefulness and calm during meditation now, something was different, but as Vaughn took the moment of quiet to study her, he could not put his finger on what he thought was not right with her. Irina broke the silence and made him start, he saw an unmistakeable flicker of amusement pass across her face and he felt frustrated with himself. "It's rude to stare, Agent Vaughn."

Her eyes were still closed and he wondered how she did that, how she knew it was him that was with her without ever seeing him first. "I was just surprised, I didn't expect you to still be here" Vaughn responded.

"In his own unusual way Jack respects you; you won't earn more by trying to act like him in regard to me" Irina answered in reply to his previous remark, a remark that, had Jack said it, would have been cutting.

Vaughn laughed and shook his head. "I don't know where you get your information but Agent Bristow would have more respect for my Dog" was his highly sarcastic reply.

"That isn't true, you just don't see it. I do; even though he rarely shows it he does value your opinion. You even go against him sometimes and because of that he sees you as worthy" she shifted from her current seated position to swing her legs over the side of the bed, she couldn't get comfortable.

"Worthy of what?" Vaughn wanted to know more, to hear what she had to say, he wanted to leave but at the same time played the part of the avid listener perfectly.

"Worthy of Sydney's affections" the comment left him not knowing what to say. She had, even though he had initiated the original conversation, turned it completely around. Irina directed the topic without him realising it. Vaughn was stuck between wanting her to carry on and being annoyed at himself for it.

Luckily for him the decision of what to do next was made for him as Jack and Sydney entered, the both wore similar looks of surprise and relief. "We're leaving" Jack announced in a no nonsense attitude and waited, expecting Irina and Vaughn to jump to attention and get ready to go. They did neither, the two of them wanted answers.

"What happened?" Vaughn voiced the question before Irina, who didn't even seem to be taking much notice of them.

"I will explain once we leave here" Jack replied pointedly. He had spoken briefly with the Doctor and given him a number to call when Irina's results came through in a few days, he had explained that there was no way that they could stay in France any longer and yes, they would keep him updated on his patients status. "Let's go" Vaughn moved to stand by the doorway where Sydney was waiting; Jack stepped in front of Irina.

Her eyes moved upward to meet his. Jack moved back as she stood and came towards him, he inched away and watched her with unease as she lifted her arm to run her hand through his hair. "When did you turn grey?" she paused for a second before smiling and looking at him, amused. "I like itâ€I always did say that your job would take away the brown."

Jack's mouth opened but words failed him. He lifted his own arm to take her hand, his actions were surprisingly gentle; something that Sydney had not seen in him for a long time and Vaughn not at all. At the same time he was guarded still, though a far cry from how he usually was. "Laura?" he finally breathed out.

"You look like you've seen a ghost" she was oblivious to the rooms other two occupants, even to the room she was in. "Sit down" she instructed.

If this were a cruel trick of Irina's, a hoax to gain his trust, he would never ever forgive her. "No, I'm fine" he had spoken to Kendall before Sloane made contact and the Director had ordered him to bring Derevko in. He could not comply with these instructions now – yet he had no choice. He had to betray her to save her. But this woman was no nearer to being Irina than the other person in the cell at the mansion.

"I have the worst headache" Laura rubbed at her temples and sat down on the bed again. She surveyed the room then and her confusion grew "is that why I'm here? In the hospital?"

Jack thought quickly and came up with a half-truth. "You collapsed, what's the last thing you remember?" he needed to get an idea of what year Laura thought this was. Whatever she thought; things were going to get extremely difficult.

"I was sitting on a bed and a Doctor was taking my blood" only Sydney understood how that could be, the Doctor had mentioned how Irina hadâ€changed suddenly, and now she realised why her mother had not said anything. For them to find out that she had become so confused to believe herself to be Laura would have been agonising. To find out this way though was far worse. "Before that I was at home, you were at work and Sydney was playing – is she okay?" Laura demanded, "Did she call you? Is that how you knew to come here?" things just weren't adding up. She took her in her surroundings again and noticed the strange man and woman as the latter left the room, looking disturbed. The man excused himself and followed her. "Are they your colleagues?" Laura rose to her feet again and paced the room to stretch her legs. It was then that she noticed the posters and leaflets on a nearby table were all in French.

* * *

"I can't stand this! The woman in there is someone I remember from my childhood, she thinks I'm still a kid" Sydney didn't know how she felt; should she cry, scream or maybe laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation. She opted for a mix of the first and last, Vaughn's arms enveloped her in a hug.

"Your father will figure out what to do" he tried to reassure her.

"I feel like I'm betraying Laura by wanting Irina back, and then I feel selfish for wanting Laura to stay because it'd be easierâ€and they're the same person!" Sydney couldn't deal with this. She could only imagine how her father felt.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

"What's going on? Why is everything in French?" Laura held the stance of someone that, despite the unnerving effect that being suddenly forgetful had on her, would get to the bottom of what's going on. She had gotten to her feet now and was looking about the room, curiously taking in the foreign leaflets and posters that had yet to be pinned to the wall. As she looked around she brought her thumb to her mouth where she started to tap her bottom lip with the long nail, Jack recognised it as a sign that she was worried, he had never been able to break her of the habit. Once he realised who she really was he had wondered whether or not that was real or something she had made-up, now it looked as though he had his answer.  
  
She turned around and looked at him briefly. He strode across the room and moved her hand away from her mouth "Laura, you have to stay calm." He saw the flicker of annoyance at his words, she wanted answers and he was being infuriatingly secretive.  
  
"How am I supposed to stay calm when you're not telling me anything?" she pulled her hand out of his and he put it right back again. This was so difficult, he wanted to take her in his arms and tell her that everything was fine, that they would be going home soon. But he couldn't. That part of them didn't exist anymore, she didn't exist anymore.  
  
Watching her now and how she was acting, he compared her to the woman she had been a couple of minutes before. Both strong in different ways, Laura didn't hide her worry though; they both had tempers but dealt with it in different ways. Laura was less likely to lash out at him physically. But most of all; Laura's trust was absolute; he saw it when he looked into her brown eyes. On the outside they were the same as Irina's but the feeling behind them was different. Not that he made a point of looking so deeply into Irina's. Laura would trust him with her life, Irina would probably not hesitate in taking his. But then neither would he. At least that was what he told himself. "You'd better sit down" he said gently and led her back to the bed.  
  
"Jack, what's wrong? You look so troubled" she pushed aside her own fears for the moment. She knew that he kept some things bottled up inside, most often when he returned from a mission. Little by little she had gotten him to open up so the weight of his troubles didn't rest solely on his shoulders. That was what she intended to get him to do now, especially considering whatever worried him had something to do with her predicament. They were sat side by side on the bed "you know that you can tell me anything" she rested her head on his left shoulder, her eyes closed a little as tiredness tried to overcome her need to hear what was going on.  
  
Jack tried to sort out his thoughts, how was he going to explain this one to her? He prided himself on being able to think problems through in any given situation, but having Laura again in such close quarters, and settling herself against him was kind of distracting. Not that he was complaining. He absently slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, the familiar pattern of long ago easily reasserting itself. "This isn't something I think you'll be able to fix" he treaded into the conversation carefully so as not to freak her out when the bombshell hit. She needed to know and sooner rather than later, if the Laura persona returned at a later date the same questions she had now would arise again and he would be in the same position. It was better to do this now.  
  
"Why don't you let me decide that, hmm?" her eyelids dropped to a close every few seconds and the gentle rise and fall of her husbands chest was lulling her to sleep. The uncertainty of earlier was steadily leaving her as she became familiar with her surroundings, having Jack with her helped a lot. He could sort through anything, even when she could not. "Come on, I'm waiting" she added playfully "you don't want me to get impatient."  
  
He laughed in spite of what he was about to say, he was trying so hard not to get used to this, he knew it could and would disappear all too soon and he would lose Laura all over again. "You and I haven't seen each other for twenty years..." he felt her draw back from him but his hand on hers kept her close, from venturing too far. "You...died, in a car accident" Jack had decided telling her the real truth would be too much for her to handle, this whole situation was utterly ridiculous!  
  
Laura was silent; there was a sharp intake of breath and then nothing until she pulled away from him abruptly. He heard her shoes squeak on the freshly polished floor and looked up when the faint sound stopped. The door stood her; her hand rested on the door handle "don't be stupid, that's impossible" there was hardly any tone to her voice.  
  
First disbelief, then denial, then anger; Jack moved quickly across the room to be near her before it could progress to fear, fear of the unknown, fear of what would happen next. He felt relief when she did not pull away from him "I thought you had died, when in reality you survived and began another life, you didn't know who you were..." Laura was just as thorough as him and once she had gotten over the shock and re-gathered her wits she would have many questions, she would want to know every single aspect of what had happened.  
  
"Where's Sydney? I want to see my daughter" her back was facing him and he walked to stand in front of her.  
  
There was doubt in her eyes; she actually doubted his word and that hurt a lot. He couldn't exactly blame her though; if their positions were reversed he wouldn't believe it either. There were definite flaws in his explanation and Laura saw right through to that. "The woman you saw in this room before was Sydney" he wrapped his arms around her, feeling the urgent need to comfort her when she needed him the most, he held her close as she cried against him.  
  
His mobile phone rang, shattering the quiet that had descended again. He ignored it, whoever was calling could wait; his wife needed him more than anyone else could in that moment. It continued to ring incessantly, stopping and starting for close to a minute, it was grating on his nerves. Jack glanced at the numbers that flashed on the small screen and stiffened. It was Sloane. He had told Jack that he would not call again, that it would be up to him. That only meant one thing; Sloane was watching them. He had seen everything.

The urge to crush the noisy phone in place of Sloane was strong to say the least. But Jack would not give his enemy the satisfaction of seeing that this was getting to him. At least Arvin respected him though, unlike Irina, he would probably gloat to kingdom come upon seeing her in this tortured state. Even though technically she was not herself at that point. "Laura, we have to leave the hospital, I'm going to take you somewhere safe" but could the CIA really be considered safe for her? Not likely, but just now, with Sloane seeing their every move Jack couldn't take her anywhere else that he could consider her definitely out of Sloane's reach. He conveniently pushed away to the far corners of his mind the memory where he had promised Irina he would keep her away from the CIA.  
  
His comment begged the immediate question of why exactly he needed to spirit her away to somewhere safe. He had a bit more explaining to do than he had originally planned, Jack was going to have to be careful of what he said around her. "You're keeping something from me" Laura rightly accused. The phone rang again and she unexpectedly yanked it out of Jack's hand and answered it, tiring of its interruptions. "Whoever's calling try again later, Jack and I have more important things to talk about than answering you" she switched the phone off, not caring whether she offended the caller or not. Jack couldn't help but smirk; he had forgotten how much she had to be interrupted during serious discussions. "Jack, please, I know you're keeping something from me, what is it? What happened to you that made you so closed off?"  
  
She looked so insistent, so hurt, what was he supposed to say? "I'll explain everything later, but right now we have to leave" so much for getting everything out into the open now. He dried her wet cheeks with his finger and smiled encouragingly at her. He had promised her when they were married that he would never ever bring work home with him. He did not envision any scenario like this twenty plus years ago. "Do you trust me?"  
  
Laura nodded in surprise. "Of course" she answered.  
  
He leaned forward, whilst wondering if he should continue on this dangerous and rocky course, nothing good would come of getting close to her. He pulled away and went to the door instead, opened it and waited for her to join him. She knew something was amiss, he could see it when he looked into her eyes.

* * *

Sydney was pacing in the corridor outside and Vaughn had retaken his earlier seat in the corridor. He stood a second after the younger Agent stopped and both turned to face the 'reunited' husband and wife. Sydney glanced in concern from one to the other and noted how close together they were both stood, they looked altogether too comfortable for them to be Jack and Irina. There was a sign of uncertainty in her mother's demeanor and Sydney knew then whom it was that they were still dealing with. "Mom?" she questioned hesitantly as she took three steps forward.  
  
Laura was taking in the woman in front of her, all grown up and definitely not the six year old she remembered. This woman was strong and soft at the same time, kind and gentle. Sydney stared at her nervously, she tried to bring up memories of years past of the mother she knew as Laura, not Irina. It was harder than she thought it would be. It was difficult to say which was worse; Laura seeing the adult daughter that she only remembered as a child or Sydney dealing with the mother she had tried to remember from when she was a child after getting used to a completely different mother as an adult. It was quite confusing. Almost unseen Jack and Vaughn left them alone to retire to the waiting room around the corner. "I can't believe this is happening" Laura said "I'm so sorry, for leaving you..."  
  
"Oh mom, it wasn't your fault!" Sydney interrupted. She needed to ease her worry, her guilt. They were at a loss over what to do next, they were as strangers meeting on a road, needing each other to continue but being unsure of how to go about it. "I missed you so much --."  
  
Laura shortened the distance between them and hugged her daughter, they might not know each other properly anymore but the bond between them would never disappear "I'll won't ever leave again, sweetheart" Laura swore. She sounded so sure of herself, Sydney had told herself over and over again that she wouldn't cry over her mother again but it was impossible not to. Laura couldn't know that at any time her sincere promise would be broken.

* * *

Jack and Vaughn sat opposite each other in the waiting room, they blocked out what was being said around the corner, it was a private moment and neither wanted to listen in on what was being said. None of them spoke, Jack didn't want to start a conversation and Vaughn wasn't sure how too. What was he supposed to say? Sorry the persona of your dead wife is back in the woman that created her? The junior Agent had an inkling that that would not go down to well. But on the upside, if he did say that and Jack reacted, at least a hospital bed wasn't too far away. "Look, I can't know what's going through your head right now in regard to what's going on but, you can -- talk to me about it, it's gotta be better than talking to Barnett, right?"  
  
"I want you to find a reason to take Sydney away from this, once Laura...once she's gone, I want you to make sure Sydney doesn't speak to Irina" Jack ordered by way of ignoring Vaughn's offer of help.  
  
"Why? What's going on?" maybe Irina informing him that in some way Jack respected him was getting to Vaughn's head, but he thought the other man might make him privy to his plans.  
  
He was wrong. "You should know by now Agent Vaughn that I don't tell you my plans. It is your duty, on the off chance that I need your assistance, to do as I ask. I don't want Sydney to come into contact with Irina; make it happen" that said, Jack rose and strode away.

* * *

Laura was making her way in the opposite direction to him, along the corridor when he arrived back at the spot where he had left the two women. Sydney's eyes were dry now but red and puffy, she met his enquiring gaze and he relaxed, not so on edge when he saw the door to the rest room swing shut. An Agent was close by anyway. "It's so weird, seeing her and talking to her, she's just the same" Sydney smiled; seeing Jack and Laura so at ease with one another reminded her so much of when she was a kid, she couldn't have been happier.  
  
"You know that could change, I don't want you to get used to this --."  
  
"I know, I do, I know. But dad, please, let me enjoy this" she almost pleaded. The last thing Sydney wanted was for her father to ruin this. Jack paused, sighed and nodded. He agreed wordlessly. He couldn't say no and deny her this. Both turned at the time when they heard a door slam shut and the sound of someone falling, seeing nothing they stayed put and sat down to wait for Laura to return.  
  
She did a couple of minutes later, looking better and more at ease. "I'm ready" Laura announced and took Jack's hand in hers and led the way towards the exit. Minutes later the team of Agents left the area. The hidden cameras followed their every move.

* * *

The plane waited in the hangar for Jack and Laura, Sydney and Vaughn had already boarded and waited patiently for the remaining two passengers to join them. All they wanted to do now was relax for the trip home; things would be hectic once they got back to Los Angeles. The Agency had everything covered for their return home, everything except nourishment and that was what the couple were getting, it came in the form of chocolate bars and soda cans. One of the Agents that were accompanying them took the food and drinks off them and carried it aboard, leaving Jack and Laura alone. "You'll be home soon," he told her with a smile, though goodness knew what awaited them in LA.  
  
"You expect me to believe?"  
  
The cold voice almost sent chills down his spine. "Irina..." he whispered the name. It was inevitable that she would return, but did it have to be now? When things were running so smoothly. He faced her and saw, unsurprisingly that she was livid. Jack wondered when it was that she had come back; he had not noticed any changes. She must have been keeping it all in until they were alone. That time was now.  
  
"You completely betrayed my trust!" Irina spat out, her eyes blazed with unchecked anger as she glared at Jack. He was stood in front of her, the both of them a few meters from the plane that had been hired to fly the Agents and her to LA.  
  
Jack actually laughed, in the current situation it was probably a bad idea, but he hadn't gotten where he was by being worried about other people's reactions. "Come now, Irina, do you really think you're the right person to be talking about betrayal?" he responded sarcastically before pressing on, not caring to hear an answer. "I informed the CIA of your predicament and they decided it was in your best interests to turn yourself over to them, temporarily, or at least until Sloane is apprehended."  
  
"You say that like I have a choice in the matter. We both know it could take years until Sloane is even found, let alone taken into custody, and I am not willing to go back to that cell until the CIA decide to do their jobs properly. What would be stopping them from trying to pass another sentence?" her voice was still low as she spoke but anger simmered to the surface and Jack knew he should move; being in striking distance and all. "I don't have information for them that would help in their investigation, Sloane stopped trusting me the second he decided it would be worth his while to poison me and throw me in a locked room!"  
  
"We both know that isn't true, Irina" he smiled smugly, as though he knew something that she did not know he knew. Sloane didn't just wake up one morning and decide to imprison you for no reason. You have information that he wants. He gets it and he gives you a cure, until you talk the CIA will be happy to make arrangements for you to stay in Los Angeles."  
  
He was blackmailing her, pure and simple. He forgot one thing however; Irina Derevko did not allow herself to become blackmailed. Her tone was low and deadly when she answered "you son of a bitch, Jack. I will never help the CIA, and I will never help Sloane, and I will never ever help you" that signaled the end of the conversation.  
  
Only problem for Irina was, Jack did not give up so easily. And he wouldn't concede to one of the Agencies top ten most wanted. Newsflash Irina, you don't help Sloane and you'll die, then you won't be much help to anyone."  
  
She wasn't certain whether he was angry about that because he would rather she live, or because dead she would not be of any use to him. Both ways she would be out of his life and she had a sneaking feeling he would rather that not become the case. She smirked, using it as ammunition against him, "be careful, people might begin to think you actually care what happens to me." Irina watched him carefully, trying to identify any visible emotion.  
  
Instead he shook his head, returning her mocking gaze in a cool and detached manner. "The possibility of that ended a long time ago, right around the time I found out you was really a deceitful --."  
  
She interrupted him mid rant, not content to let him get the last word. "Beware your acid tongue, you might accidentally burn yourself" Irina taunted, baiting him. He was so easy to bait, he rose to the occasion every time, as Sydney had found out in Kashmir.  
  
Jack absently knew that he was playing right into her hands, he couldn't help himself though, there was something fascinating about this, she was the perfect opponent for him, neither would admit defeat and they both gave back as good as they got. He wasn't sure how long they had been stood out there but, pretty soon, Sydney would come looking for them. He hadn't told her about his promise to her mother that he would not take her back to the cell; though Sydney knew that would be inevitable, she would not appreciate his flat out lie to her. "You don't have a choice here, now you can either get on that plane on your own or I can bring out shackles and lead you myself," he threatened.  
  
"I'm not going anywhere; I will give you one warning. Try and take me and I will shoot you" Jack was going to point out that that was impossible as she had no gun, but there was something in her voice that warned him to be careful. She was deadly serious.  
  
"Sloane is watching us, Irina, somehow he is keeping tabs on everything we do" Jack warned her. "Going back to LA is the safest course to take --." She didn't falter at that piece of information like he had expected her to, if he didn't know any better he would have thought she already knew.  
  
"Safer for you, perhaps. I would rather take my chances with Sloane than with the CIA" Jack chanced a step closer to hear. What was he going to do? Appeal to her more rational or caring side? That wasn't such a bad idea, "Sydney wouldn't want Sloane to capture. If that happens it will mean your death, do you seriously think she could handle that again?"  
  
If the look Irina was sending his way could turn him to ice then Jack would be screaming 'frostbite' "emotional blackmail, Jack? I didn't think that was your style" she produced the gun he didn't think she had. "Stupid CIA Agents, they are too trusting" Irina laughed condescendingly "and these are the people you think I would be safe with?"  
  
"If you run, we will follow" he threatened, but she knew that already.  
  
"I've been running most of my life, Jack, why should now be any different?" the question was only partly rhetorical.  
  
He thought that for an instance he heard a trace of sadness at that, but then again he could have been imagining things. He dismissed it as just that, his imagination. Jack sensed that for a second she became less aware of her surroundings as she faltered, was it a flicker of uncertainty or pain? He didn't care to analyze just as he took the opportunity to disarm her. He reached out to grab her arm and Irina pulled back abruptly regaining her senses. The gun went off and Irina spoke "that was a warning, try something stupid like that again and I will shoot you."


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

"What are you looking at me like that for?" Sydney looked across at Vaughn, who was sat in the grey leather seat opposite her. She gave a dimpled grin as she spoke, it just wouldn't leave her face. He shook his head and glanced out of the window, a little smile quite visible. "You've been watching me like that for the last five minutes, what is it?" she was starting to get a little embarrassed. Did she have a huge smudge right across her face or something? "Tell me."

Vaughn laughed at her insistence. "Ever since you saw your parents getting along you've been grinning to yourself like a little kid" he paused for a few seconds. "It's nice to see you so happy."

Her smile widened before she looked away. "I know it can't last but at the moment everything is..." she searched for the right word to use and sounded a little surprised when she added "normal. I never thought I could use that to describe my life -- to describe my parents, and now...that's kind of what they are. Normal. At least as normal as they could be considering the circumstances." She turned back to Vaughn at the same time as he looked at her. "Is that wrong? To want everything to stay like this?"

"Not at all" he answered without a second thought. "I think you should enjoy it" the Agent remembered then what Jack had told him _keep Sydney away from Irina _how was he going to do that when all she wanted to do just then was continue playing happy, normal family. Vaughn's tone change when he next spoke, he sounded cautious; careful when choosing his words. "Just know that at any time everything can change...things won't be normal anymore."

Then they heard the gunshot.

* * *

Irina was testing Jack's patience already and shooting at him was the worst thing she could have done. His demeanor hardened. Jack knew who he was dealing with, he thought himself then a fool for even trying to get her to listen to him whilst she was angry and had the upper hand. "You're a fool, Irina" he regarded her coldly, "I'm trying to help and all you can do is act your usual stubborn self" he huffed.

She duly ignored his rant and indicated he should get onto the plane. Being stubborn himself, Jack refused and stood his ground. "I'm not letting you out of my site."

She had no time for him to act like a good little Agent -- or the vengeful husband. She leveled the gun and took a moment to study him, to remember him before she pulled the trigger. He in turn eyed her with a defiant air about him, he had reason to be calm; he did not truly think that his wife would kill him. Irina saw that, it was such a shame to use it against him; it made her feel guilty. He almost looked smug about it. Irina spoke regretfully "you don't understand what you have gotten into, what you've gotten our daughter into. You made a deal with the devil himself and there's nothing you can do to get out of it." She moved away from him, making for the runway. There was fence surrounding it that was quite easy to get through thanks to pranksters that made the airstrip their playground in the dead of the night. "I can't give you the opportunity to work with him, to aid him further."

Jack wasn't sure when he actually realised that Irina was not bluffing, as he had first thought. It may have been right around the time it struck him that she might actually care about what happened to him, what she was about to do to him. "Is it so wrong that the only reason that I'm working with him is to save your life?"

Irina tried to see him as just another enemy, to imagine, perhaps, that he was Sloane. It made it easier to do what she had to do. "Yes" it also made it simpler when she imagined the only reason he said that was to try and catch her off guard. Irina aimed again.

The interruptions occurred at the same time, to deal with one concentration had to be taken away from the other and so there was a standstill. Sydney and Vaughn appeared at the stairs of the plane, she looked thunderstruck. Irina and Sydney's eyes met; Sydney's eyes showed an immense sadness, regret, and confusion. But she couldn't hate her mother, not anymore. Despite the fact that they were at opposite ends of the playing field, she understood why Irina wanted to escape. Though just then she did not know that Irina was not bluffing when she said she was planning on shooting Jack. "Mom..." Sydney walked down the steps towards her mother, with a pleading expression. "Don't, please..."

The second interruption came in the form of a flashy blue convertible. The driver screeched to a halt just outside the hangar and, gun in hand, he strode towards them looking for the entire world like the cocky boss seeing to his minions. It was Sark. He pushed his black sunglasses back on his head and surveyed the situation. "Well it looks like I came at the perfect time, don't you think? Though I suppose that does depend on your perspective" he came to a stop beside Irina; who watched him with mistrust.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jack demanded. He now had two guns trained on him and he was none too pleased. A familiar feeling of betrayal was beginning to creep in and all eyes turned on Irina.

Seeing the hesitation in his part boss part ex-prisoner, he understood and felt compelled to give a quick explanation. "Sloane has no idea I'm here. He believes I'm trying to find Jacque Bourrett; I swear I didn't know he intended to administer the poison to you prior to him doing it" he told her sincerely, ignoring the infuriated Jack.

Unbeknownst to either Sark or Irina, Vaughn was holding his own gun, he had kept it hidden behind him and now he aimed it at his two enemies consecutively. "Both of you, drop your weapons" he shouted and came forward on the stairs to stand just behind Sydney.

Sark laughed and tutted. "Do you really believe I think you're serious?" he strode the few steps towards Jack. "Why don't you put down iyour/i weapons Agent Vaughn, or I shoot your superior."

"Agent Vaughn I order you to shoot him, regardless of his intentions" Jack countered.

"If you do that I will have no choice but to shoot Agent Bristow, and really, what would Sydney think of you then?" Sark asked slyly.

Knowing that later on, in some way, Sark would find a way to make her regret it, Sydney raised her arm to lower Vaughn's gun. Her smile was no longer present and she kept eye contact with her mother, silently conversing, asking her to change her mind.

It was so hard to ignore her, but Irina didn't have a choice. Sydney had succeeded in changing one thing though. Irina couldn't just shoot Jack with her there, no matter what it might accomplish. In some way she knew she could not have done it anyway. Sark started back towards the car. His watch bleeped and his worry became obvious to all, "24 hours has almost passed."

The three Agents conveyed their confusion but Irina understood the cryptic message clearly; and it made her follow Sark back to the car without hesitation. "You don't have to leave!" Sydney called out to Irina. The normalcy was gone now and it seemed like they were right back at the start.

When Irina eventually faced her daughter her eyes were distant, her face hardened, showing barely any trace of emotion. "Yes, I do" she turned her back to them, and walked away.

Jack, Sydney and Vaughn were only free to move once the car reversed and sped away, leaving only a cloud of sandy dust in their wake.

* * *

Sark relaxed again, now that the CIA were behind them business could continue. "I suggest we find a suitable location to hide, Sloane expects me back in two days -- with Bourrett, unfortunately --." Out of the corner of his right eye he caught sight of the barrel of a gun. Aimed in his direction.

"Pull over" Irina demanded.

With a sigh, Sark complied. He laid his hands flat on the wheel. "Far be it from me to tell you what to do but, we don't have time for this" he said carefully, trying not to get any further on her bad side than he already was. As he generally did when he became nervous, Sark carried on speaking. "I didn't know what Sloane had planned for you --."

"And if you did? What would you have done?" Irina knew she was purposely panicking him. She had no intention of killing Sark, he was far too useful for that and if she was completely honest with herself she was used to having him around. However, she did want to know ihis/i intentions. The only way to do that was to get him to talk; threatening him was the easiest, and most amusing way to do that.

Sark was in dangerous waters, he shifted around in the seat; seriously contemplating taking his chances with the CIA. "I would have done what I thought the best course of action in that particular situation -- as it didn't happen that way I can't say precisely what I would have done" he replied without actually giving an answer, at least not a straight one. He could have made dodging the question an art form.

She let a tense silence linger for a short while. "We're going to Paris."

Confused at the sudden change, though visibly glad for it, Sark responded, "Excuse me?"

Irina set the gun on her lap and pointed to the road. "As I'm sure you remember there is a private airstrip not too far from here, we need to go to Paris" she leaned back in her seat trying to get comfortable but knowing that it was impossible. The clock ticked and she glanced at Sark's watch. It was almost time. "We need to hurry."

Not wanting to push her anymore, Sark drove. "Why are we going to Paris?"

"I know someone there," his boss answered vaguely. She checked the rearview mirror but they weren't being followed.

"Do I know this person?"

"You know of her but I don't believe you've been introduced."

Sensing she was not in the speaking mood Sark fell quiet. He broke in again not long later "I don't believe Jack Bristow will let you die" he broached the subject with obvious uncertainty.

"He doesn't have a choice. The only way Sloane can win is if he has me and that isn't going to happen" she added then, sternly "now drop it."

Sark knew better than to pursue the subject further.

* * *

"What do you mean you don't have her?" Sloane blasted down the phone.

Jack spoke through gritted teeth, reminding himself that he was doing this for a good reason. "There were complications" knowing what Sloane's next question would be he wasted no time in explaining, in his own way "just how loyal are the people you work with?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" an irked Sloane responded.

"Well first Irina betrays you and then Bourrett, so who could possibly be next?" there was a kind of pleasure in Sloane being on the receiving end of taunts and jibes. "You asked me to hand over Irina or find a way to extract the information she holds. The way to accomplish that is through another person that now has her."

However this went down, whoever found her first, Jack would still be the one to have gotten Sloane what he wanted. And he knew it. As much as he wanted to be rid of her he didn't think he would, he would keep up his end of the bargain for the simple reason that if he gained even a tiny bit of trust, he could use it later to his advantage. That thought didn't temper his fury. "Sark" he hissed.

**Tbc**


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

**PARIS, FRANCE**

The man with the bushy black beard and icy blue eyes picked up the phone that rang shrilly in the cold and dingy basement office that was located beneath a reasonable hotel two miles South of the Arc De Triomphe. He 'Okayed' and 'uh huh' and 'aaahed' as the composed man on the other end of the line told him his new job. The fax machine on the metal desk by the door whirred as the information detailing what he had to do came through. Balancing the phone underneath his chin he strode purposefully toward the fax machine, stretching the curled cord as far as it would go. Setting the first sheet of paper on the bland and impersonal table his keen eyes took in the facts and pictures before him, committing all to his memory. A memory that was steadily fading with age. That was a little tidbit he would not allow anyone to find out, it word reached Arvin Sloane that he was slowing down the Boss would take his work elsewhere.

"Are you sure you do not want me to kill him outright" he asked in his brusque Parisian accent. A native of the great and bustling City he left only when his job meant he had to. He listened carefully as his employer answered the question. It sounded as if Sloane was trying hard to keep his anger in check; anger that the bearded man was positive was not directed at him.

"You know where to take them" Sloane questioned.

Nodding as well as answering verbally the man said"I do. But Paris is a big City Monsieur Sloane, and it is possible they are not even here."

Sloane sighed, frustration seeping through. "I'm sure you'll let your contacts know that a considerable sum will be awarded to them for any help they can give" sometimes all was needed was a little bribery. Whilst his 'friend' was rather low on the pecking order, despite his talents, he knew many people that were in a position to use most resources to their advantage, making the search come to a close a lot faster. And speed was of the utmost importance in this situation.

"I will do what I can. I will update you in three days" he told Sloane and made to put the phone back on the hook.

Before he could do so Sloane interrupted. "You have two days, fail to accomplish your objective in that time frame and I will be forced to take this elsewhere" before the other man could object Sloane put the phone down, cutting off anything the Parisian could say to sway his decision.

**VILLE NEUVE, FRANCE**

Jack watched as the plane he, Irina, Sydney and Vaughn were supposed to be in took to the now cloudy skies. He was staying behind whilst the two younger agents carried onto Los Angeles to brief Dixon in person over what was happening. Above all, he wanted his daughter away from whatever could eventually happen to Irina. He kept his eyes on the plane; the drizzle outside the warm car he sat in matched his mood quite well. As the airplane disappeared into the grey clouds and out of his site he turned away, started the engine, and pulled onto the road.

Half an hour ago he had put in a call to an old – not quite friend but close enough to be trusted; now Jack drove in the direction Irina and Sark had taken a while before him, not knowing exactly where to go but driving onwards nonetheless, waiting for the phone call that would help him on his way. He was not to be disappointed. By the third ring Jack had pulled over to the side of the empty, scenic road and picked it up.

Dispensing with the niceties he got straight to the point. "What did you find?" as the informer spoke the Agent could sense his nervousness.

"Monsieur Bristow, I do not think I will be able to help you this time" he spoke with a decided air of uncertainty. Who would he like to anger more? Arvin Sloane or Jack Bristow? Or perhaps the better question was: Who would do more damage to him should he refuse to assist them?

"That alone tells me Arvin Sloane has contacted you" he gave the bearded man a few seconds to gather himself, to decide what to say next. "You may think Arvin is more dangerous than I, that however is a myth."

Tentatively the Parisian posed a question. "And how do I know that is true?"

He answered without hesitation, various scenarios of how this conversation could go having already been thought through. "Who do you think gathered the Intel from prisoners of SD-6? How do you think I was able to obtain it?"

The hairs on the back of the bearded man's neck stood on end. Arvin Sloane was certainly not to be taken lightly but who in their right mind would purposely cross Jack Bristow? A laugh that held no humour sounded down the phone. "I was always told never to get in the middle of a personal dispute." He knew the CIA Agent was more deadly this time for the very simple reason that Sloane had made this personal, by involving Jack's wife. He did not know all the details but that much he was sure of. He was cleverer than to ask exactly what had happened.

"So we have reached an agreement?" Jack asked in a voice that made it clear there would be serious repercussions if that were not the case.

"Yes. We have," then back down to business. "You were correct in your assumption that Monsieur Sloane would contact me for help" that was his first mistake. The Parisian was a man that Sloane, and by extension Jack, had used on various occasions back in the SD-6 days. At times, as now, Arvin used the same, supposedly loyal individuals that had not been compromised in the Alliance takedown. In those days though the somewhat reluctant people that gave their services from time to time did so because of the pressure Sloane had Jack put on them. The Parisian was inexpensive and in a useful location for this mission; it was hard for Sloane to pass up on the chance to use him. Jack had known his old friend and boss would come to this man, he was lucky in his guess.

"The minute you have information on the whereabouts of either Irina Derevko or Julian Sark I want to know about it. Try and delay giving Sloane an update, if that includes misinforming him so be it" Jack gave the plan of action; there would be no deviation from said plan. "How long where you given to complete your directive"

A sigh and then"only two days. It was puzzling, he seemed very rushed."

Jack understood the need to find Irina quickly, she had something he wanted, but why this urgency? Sloane had to know it was impossible to find her in so short a span of time, considering her resources. If Irina Derevko did not want to be found then she would not be. Suddenly he remembered something Sark had said, I"24 hours has almost passed"/I hearing that they had left abruptly. Jack was working on little to no information, and he did not like it. "Call me when you have something" he instructed and hung up.

Sloane had given the Parisian 48 hours; Jack would do the same. That left two days. Jack needed a few more answers; luckily for him he had somebody that had been on the inside of whatever Arvin had been planning. It was time to take a little trip back to the farmhouse where Bourrett was being held.

**PARIS, FRANCE**

Sark sifted through the thirty or so papers he had liberated from Sloane's desk, unbeknownst to him of course, before the group of scientists and hired bodyguards had been disbanded or killed, and he had left. Sloane had been so busy taunting Jack, bribing him that he had not noticed Sark slip away to do a bit of investigative work of his own. It was true that he did not have any idea that his employer was going to inject the poison, the great but sadly shady Scientists had created, into Irina to make her talk. Nor did he have any idea that she was systematically going through Sloane's carefully made plans behind his back. Sark was privy to various details, but not all of them.

There were perhaps two or three pages of information that could be considered helpful, the rest was nothing of interest or value. He had also managed to take with him two disks that he hoped would be of some use. Maybe he would get lucky and actually find the formula to create another antidote to replace the one Sloane had destroyed. He picked up one sheet of paper, on it were names, some he recognised. Beside him Irina stirred and he put down the list before he could finish reading.

They had picked the car up from a hotel near the airport that, on request, chauffered the more wealthy tourists around in a car of their choice; or if they were booked whatever vehicle was available at the time. Irina had an understanding with one of the employees at the hotel. She had helped him on a few occasions when his extracurricular exploits could have landed him in a great deal of bother, in return he gave her whatever help he could whenever she asked for it. He had every reason to stay loyal and no reason to become a turncoat. Whatever somebody else offered Irina could double it. His help could come in the form of a hideout, a contact or, in this case, an inconspicuous car.

The employees brother drove, he was working himself through school and didn't have much money. In return for his services today he would last the remainder of the year in college and be able to pay off any debts that may have mounted over his time there.

The plane journey was not long; perhaps an hour or a few minutes longer, Sark had not been keeping track of the time. After their initial talk in the car after getting away from the Bristow's and Vaughn, Irina had fallen silent. Even now, though she gave the appearance of sleep it looked to him as though she were in deep concentration. If he had seen how she was at the hospital it might have entered his mind that she was doing her uttermost to keep a firm grasp on her identity, to not slip into the darkness again and wake up with no memory of what was happening or where she was at the time or why.

Though she looked to be in a deep slumber she was not, instead Irina was well aware of her surroundings, for now at least. "We're here" she announced, finally opening her eyes.

Leaving Sark to thank the driver she walked towards one of the red doors or many red doors along the row of almost identical buildings. By the time she had finished knocking: three quick raps then a pause followed by a succession of two slow knocks, Sark had caught up to her. The door opened before he could speak and a face he had seen only in a picture on Sloane's desk greeted him. "This is a surprise" Emily smiled and leant forward to embrace Irina.

"I only wish it were under better circumstances," her old friend responded before stepping into the house.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

**PARIS, FRANCE**

Emily stepped aside to allow her two visitors into her home, she peered for a couple of seconds outside but the road was clear, the car that Irina and Sark had arrived in had already pulled away from the curb. She had learnt to be careful. She moved past them both to lead the way into the living room. Directly ahead of them as they entered the sparsely furnished room was a framed picture of Emily and Sloane outside their old home in the States. She could not completely cut herself off from her old life, a piece of her did not want to; it was that part that looked longingly at the phone and told her to call Arvin. Thus far she had ignored it, it had been long and hard though. Emily missed her husband, her home and friends. As much as she adored Paris she wanted to return to Los Angeles, where she belonged. This apartment she now lived in, as nice as it was, did not yet feel like home. She had been meaning to bring in decorators for a while but had refrained from doing so. Emily was not a person that envied others but none the less she found herself watching others and wishing she had a simple life again like that of other people. She tired of watching over her shoulder.

Irina's visit was a welcome relief; though she knew there was a nefarious reason for her coming without reason. To continue the effect of normalcy for at least a minute longer she broke the silence with, "do either of you want something to eat? I was about to fix myself something," Emily offered pleasantly. She hovered by the kitchen door expectantly, whilst waiting with some curiosity for an explanation for their being in her new home.

Both shook their heads in answer to her question; Irina was more tired than anything and Sark had eaten when monitoring the Bristow's and Vaughn at the hospital. "Please excuse my bluntness Mrs. Sloane, but aren't you supposed to be dead?" he asked.

Emily smiled, somewhat amused, and nodded. This had to be the outspoken, cocky young man that Irina had told her about. "Call me Emily, and yes I am but then so was Laura at one time," she pointed out. And then, "wait, I forgot" she backtracked and corrected herself. "Irina." Sometimes she almost slipped up with her own name; her alias. It would have been stupid to keep her true identity, despite her supposed deceased status. Now she was known as Catherine Shaw. The forename would have been given to a daughter had she had a child and the surname she had picked out of a sea of many choices in a hat.

"Quite true," the Brit agreed. "It does seem to be a habit; people coming back from the dead," Sark was currently making himself at home in the apartment. The times when he would have felt uncomfortable walking unannounced into somebody else's domain were long gone. "I'm sure the two of you need to talk," he mentioned and stood, "why don't I see to refreshments?"

"That's very kind of you," Emily beamed, and moved across the room to take up the chair Sark had previously commandeered. She seemed rather surprised at his manners, as though she did not expect him to be at all charming. Well bad guys came in all types, she supposed.

Sark disappeared from the room; he partially closed the sliding door to allow them privacy.

Emily peered at her friend over her glasses, Irina looked far too pale for her liking. She had a dreaded unnerving feeling that it was something a quick trip to the Doctor would not fix. "What has Arvin done this time?"

**VILLE NEUVE, FRANCE**

Bourrett's demeanor was that of a very jittery man. He was presently standing as far away from the seated Jack Bristow as possible, with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other in front of his face as he bit his nails like a nervous child. "But what if he finds me!" the Frenchman wailed, really quite distraught with the whole situation.

Jack, despite is frustration and rapidly fading patience, remained attentive. He really did not care what happened to the master whiner. He said as much, his annoyance carefully restrained. Kind of. "If you cannot provide me with any relevant information I will hand you over to Sloane myself."

The other man swung around, his eyes wide with panic. "But – but your superior!"

"Is a very good friend of mine," Jack retorted a little smugly. "And will agree with whatever methods I use to procure information," he leant forward in a threatening manner. "What exactly is Sloane working on?"

**PARIS, FRANCE**

Emily felt sick to the stomach as Irina detailed Arvin's plan. Never would she have imagined her husband could stoop to such deeds; she knew he was not the completely kind and compassionate man she had once thought he was but this was evil, made worse because he was acting this way to people that at one time had been his friends. The watched the ill woman before her with watery eyes; the tears were threatening to spill. She took a shuddering breath, "and he did this to you because you took thus formula from him?" she questioned, trying to understand.

Irina nodded in confirmation. "I am the only person that knows its whereabouts; he had hoped that by administering the poison he could sway me…he thinks I double crossed him because I want it for myself. He had complied a list of people to target; I saw the list, though he doesn't know that."

"Who is on the list?" she tentatively asked.

Irina paused before continuing. Emily knew this much there was no point in holding back now, however much the truth would hurt her. Irina that not knowing was worse. "There are a few people; enemies of his, people that have turned against him, and have power, others that can be blackmailed and used. To be honest I do not care about them. Jack is on the list. If I give Sloane the formula he will release the poison and Jack will be in my position. He doesn't fully understand what Sloane is up to."

Emily took off her glasses and wiped her eyes dry. She looked so sad, a woman in grieving. "Why don't you just tell Jack what you knew?"

"I was going to…circumstances arose and I was unable to tell him anything…" Irina did not go into the debacle at the hospital, that she was unable to remember herself, and the subsequent betrayal. Emily did not need to know the symptoms. "I was going to be turned into the CIA…if I was in their custody I may have been…persuaded…to tell them where the formula is; and I do not trust them enough to do that. They are not all bad," she admitted that much. "It is less complicated this way," she said lightly, "I will die in days and nobody will obtain the information I have --."

Emily shook her head, suddenly angry. "No…you will fight and get help!" she demanded; refusing to let Irina resign herself to this fate. "You will promise me that you are not going to just give up. Some part of me still loves Arvin and always will, but I hate what he's done, what he's doing! But so help me if I need to I'll find a way to contact him and get him to give you an antidote." She stood as if to go immediately and do just that but Irina rose with her and placed a restraining hand on her arm, stopping her.

"You are not going to contact him," Irina all but ordered and glared at her stubborn friend. "Emily," she said kinder, more understanding. "You can't change him. He's different."

It had been difficult in the beginning to renew the old friendship with Emily. For her the familiarity had still been there but with Emily that was not so; she had had to get to know her as Irina instead of Laura, though at times it was hard to differentiate between the two due to similarities. Irina suspected she was only so trusting because she knew, more or less, the whole story. Sometimes honesty was the best policy and it was something that Emily valued. Irina had been mildly surprised at how Emily had welcomed her back so easily; but then her friend was not the type of person to bear grudges. Add to that, she was trusting though definitely no pushover. With the change in her life Emily had needed a friend that she could really speak to, somebody that would understand. Irina had needed some amount of normalcy. Though it was in moments like this that they clashed.

"But if I could just persuade him --," she grasped at straws.

Irina answered her sincerely, truly sorry with how things were for her friend now. She never wanted anything like this for Emily. "It is too dangerous…it's possible that Arvin would see you as another betrayal and lash out; I am not willing to take that chance," she laid it out straight. Whether Emily would listen was another matter.

**VILLE NEUVE, FRANCE**

"I'm not sure! Not exactly…he – he has many secrets" Bourrett stammered, not at all helpful. Jack stood and the Frenchman shifted his chair back a little to maintain the distance. "Wait! Wait!" he exclaimed, jumping to the conclusion that his life was very near the end. "See, I was not told details but…" he gleamed. "I know scientists," he nodded proudly.

The memory of the small Lab back at the mansion sprung to the forefront of Jack's mind; of course, they had to have gone somewhere. "Very good, Mr. Bourrett. Now, can you tell me where they are?"

Bourrett hesitated. "Eh…yes…but Mr. Sloane monitors his people. What if he sees me talking to them?"

The panicky man actually thought Jack would believe he was competent enough to make first contact? The CIA agent shook his head, "tell me where to find one of these scientists and I will do the rest."

A much-relieved Bourrett relaxed considerably.

"Do not hang up the phone," Sark quickly demanded of the young woman that he had called, before she could do just that. He was presently standing outside a small and mostly empty bistro just off the rue keppler. The light was fading and the area was very nearly deserted. He felt secure in the knowledge that he was safe for now.

Sydney did not answer straight away; she wanted Sark to sweat a little, let him think she had hung up. He obviously had something important to say or he would not have risked calling at all. "Go on," she instructed. Not unexpectedly she had ignored her father's orders, six hours ago, when he had told her to return to Los Angeles, though Vaughn had gone on ahead of her after her insistence. As Sydney waited for Sark to give an explanation for calling she was sat in a rented car, hidden amongst a hedge-covered verge, and staking out the farmhouse where her father and Bourrett were situated. She was not ready to let her dad know she was still in the area. He would probably escort her back to the airstrip.

"Your mother's life hangs in the balance, Sydney. In 18 hours time things will become very…" there was a few seconds of silence on the line as he picked his words carefully. "Difficult."

"What are you talking about?" she question coolly. Over at the farmhouse she noticed the lights had gone out and two figures were emerging.

"What exactly did your mother tell you?" Sark wanted to know, as if the thought that she did not know all the details had only just occurred to him.

Distracted, Sydney answered hurriedly as she continued to spy on her father. He was getting into his own vehicle with the Frenchman. "Not much; Sloane injected her with some poison he was testing," she was still refusing to admit it was anything worse.

Sark changed that for her with his next words. "I truly am sorry to tell you this but, she will die within the next two days."

She swallowed, bile rose in her constricted throat. "You're wrong. It was just causing her pain, she was confused --."

"Being in denial will not help matters," the apparently helpful Brit cut in. "This is why I contacted you; I am in need of your assistance on behalf of your mother," he began cryptically.

**PARIS, FRANCE**

The scientist had been dozing off when he heard the knock at the door. With a sigh, and grumbling to himself about bad timing, he got up off the couch where he had been so comfortable and headed to the door. He was too out of it to remember that checking who the caller was was usually a good idea. He opened the door. And received the shock of his life when he realised that a gun was being aimed at his face. He back stepped as Jack, with Bourrett edging in behind him, entered the small room.

"Take seat."

Not one to argue with a superior man the scientist did as Jack instructed. "Now, I know you work for Arvin Sloane. I also know what you've been working on; what I want from you is the antidote," he stood tall in front of the scientist, a foreboding presence in the room.

"I do not know where it is…Mr. Sloane keeps it on his person always; and I do not know where he is," the flustered scientist said regretfully. The, tentatively, "this is about the woman?" he withered under the look Jack sent his way and shuddered inwardly.

"What do you know about her?" Jack duly ignored the question.

The scientist rubbed his eyes and shrugged, unsure. "Just that Mr. Sloane thought she was working with him – she stole the bulk of the poison we had created, and hid it. What was left he gave to her to try and make her tell him where the rest was. She did not submit," he appeared lost and utterly clueless after that tidbit. "I know nothing else…except that, if she still lives, in 13 maybe 14 hours, she will get a lot worse than she already will be."

And with that amount of time left and no more leads, Jack could do nothing.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

* * *

**PARIS, FRANCE**

The twittering Bourrett had not helped to alleviate Jack's subdued mood; if it were possible he had only served to annoy the CIA agent further. When Bourrett was nervous he talked, a lot. And being in Jack's formidable presence did not exactly have a calming effect. The Frenchman was, for now, locked in Jack's rental outside the bistro he was currently inside. It was quiet and had a pleasant atmosphere, it enabled him to think and reflect. Only 1 hour had gone by since he had intruded on the scientists slumber; in that time all he was able to do was wait. It was hard for him to feel so useless. For now he could only wait and hope his contact came through and found either Irina or Sark; preferably both, before the deadline the scientist had given. He knew what Irina had done: double crossed Sloane, no surprise there, and hidden the formula his nemesis needed. Though this time she had not been able to execute a quick escape. Sloane had caught her and administered what poison he had left into her in the feeble hope that she would give up its location in return for the antidote.

What he did not know was why. She would not have taken Sloane's creation out of spite; Irina always had a purpose. Right now it seemed that secret would die with her. All he could do was come up with possible answers of his own and wonder which one, if any were right. Had she wanted this poison for her own devious devices? Jack dismissed that one for now. Did she want to destroy it? Had her conscience suddenly risen up? Jack was driving himself crazy. Barnett would have a field day.

His musing were interrupted by the maitre 'd who stood over him, wondering whether or not to interrupt. "Monsieur, there is a lady here to speak to you," the young gentleman pointed in the direction of the door, which was just out of sight.

"Thank you," Jack finished the last dregs of his coffee and stood. Could Irina had found him? He kind of hoped so. Instead he was mildly surprised by the appearance of Sydney. He came to a stop in front of her, "what are you doing here?" he asked curtly.

"I couldn't just go back to LA and do nothing," she answered apologetically.

"So you thought you would stay and follow me instead?" he was a little mad but then again he would have done the same in her position. Jack could not really fault her.

"No," she shook her head for emphasis. "I thought that if I came to see you sooner that you would just --."

"Make you board another plane?" he offered. Jack knew by the way she hung her head and looked bashful that he had hit the jackpot. When she did not look ready to say anything as yet, he spoke again; he sounded more understanding. "I know why you stayed, Sydney. Had our roles been reversed I cannot say I would have done different.

She smiled, relieved, before telling him her news. "As it turns out it's a good job that I stayed; I got a call from Sark. He told me where mom is."

* * *

Both agents stood, 1 hour later thanks to rush our traffic, outside the address Sark had given to Sydney. As much as Jack would have liked to believe that his wife was beyond that door he was highly doubtful. Sark's intentions were dubious at best. Or maybe he had just underestimated the young man's loyalties to Irina. Jack was no fool; as he rapped on the front door he held his concealed gun, Sydney was stod alongside the wall and out of sight of whoever would greet them.

She spoke quickly as she waited. "Dad, if mom is in there, the CIA --."

"Will never know," he knew it would ease his daughters mind if she had the knowledge that her mother would not be taken away and locked up. And if Jack was honest to himself he knew it would be pointless to contact them anyway; if Irina truly was dying she would not live long enough to see through the duration of the journey home. He swallowed the lump in his throat and composed himself, even as Sydney averted her eyes to do the same. Whatever happened after they entered this place; things would not be the same.

The door was eased open after they heard the safety chain being moved on the inside, father and daughter readied themselves.

Sark awaited them and opened the door fully to allow Jack to survey the length of the corridor. The older man stepped inside, his gun held out in front of him as Sydney followed after to frisk Sark, who rolled his eyes as their obvious distrust. "I told you this was not a trick, Sydney."

She returned his comment with a 'gimme a break' look. "And you expected me to believe you?"

"Who else is here?" the question came from Jack, who was about to enter the living room.

Sark closed and relocked the front door before walking past Jack to the stairs, where he paused on the bottom step to say, "just the three of us." Before carrying on.

"Three?" Sydney mouthed to her father as she went in the same direction. She received a shrug in return. He led them up the stairs and to the left, to a room at the end of the hallway; the door of which was closed. He opened the door a crack and moved out of their way.

"After you," Jack said to Sark and indicated the room with a sweep of his hand.

Sark sighed; he was annoyed with all the fuss they were making, as if they had every reason to trust him. But he knew better than to argue with two agents with guns, he obliged and went into the room; though he kept his eyes fixed on the open door and not the bed 2 feet to his left. "As you can see it is perfectly safe," he said in clipped tones before exiting again.

The two agents stepped hesitantly into the room. It was fairly sized and they identified it as the master bedroom. Directly across from where they stood was a large window that almost spanned the length of the wall; through the net curtains a black railing could be seen across the bottom half of the window like a mini balcony. The room was illuminated by two apricot coloured lamps on either side of the double bed that was on the right hand side of the room. Across from the bed and set against the left wall was a table upon which was a steel bowl filled with water, a damp cloth was folded neatly next to it and beside that a packet of 24 ibuprofen. The floor was wooden tiled and as the only chair in the room was pushed back by the woman sat on it, the legs screeched. The bed was the focal point of the room and Sydney and Jack were split between the person tucked up on it and the woman that came towards them; grim faced.

"Oh my God," Sydney managed to get out as Emily stepped in front of her, arms reached out to take Sydney's hands in hers. "We wondered where mom had taken you after you recovered…" she stated and allowed Emily to draw her into a hug.

"I know…I asked her not to give away my location…I didn't want to put you both in danger should Arvin find out I was still alive," Emily pulled back and smiled halfheartedly. "I only wish it were under better circumstances." She stepped aside to give Sydney and unobstructed view of the beds occupant, but she had turned to her father.

Jack had already moved past the two women to stand right next to the bed to view the woman there. His breath caught. It had been 12 hours, or thereabouts, since he had last seen her, but her condition appeared to have decline. She looked so frail. Irina was asleep; had not even woken with the voices. She must have been exhausted to sleep so soundly. She looked peaceful, like he remembered her. He took the seat Emily had vacated and looked upon his wife, his equal, his enemy. Irina was many things to him she was the woman that was about to make him a widower. That darn lump was rising in his throat again.

He was vaguely aware of someone calling his name but only took notice when the person laid a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Sydney, "I'm going to talk to Sark. Find out what he knows," she did not voice that she thought her father could do with some time alone. For that he was grateful.

He nodded mutely and heard Sydney leave the room. Emily remained to tell him, "She was calling for you in her sleep," she said softly. "She's been in and out of it for a couple of hours now. Jack I'm so sorry." Emily left then, to give his some privacy, and closed the door behind her.

Irina groaned in her sleep and her brow furrowed. She turned over onto her left side and winced as she did so, her left arm came up to wrap around her stomach though she remained asleep; it was done without conscious though, a reflex action.

Jack rose and crossed the room to the water bowl, he dipped the cloth inside and wrung out the excess liquid before taking up his previous position. He felt her forehead, she was burning up and he made a note to ask Emily how long Irina had been that way. He tapped the damp cloth lightly across her forehead, wiping away the beads of perspiration, and then down to the side of her pale face in an effort to keep her cooler. The strands of hair that had shifted in front of her eyes he moved to tuck behind her ear. He leant forward onto the bed and rested his chin on his clasped hands. He had never seen her so vulnerable before, even when in the CIA's custody she had possessed a magnetic power.

"I never wanted it to be this way," he eventually said, his voice lower than was usual. He was not even sure she could hear him. He almost hoped that she could not. As Jack and Laura he had always been able to say anything to her; it appeared now was no different with the bedside confessions. "I think I would rather this was one of your lies," his throat burned as he repressed his tears. Jack Bristow did not cry; one of them had to be strong.

"Jack…" the name was whispered and he half thought it was imagined. "Don't leave," her eyes remained closed and he could not even be certain she was aware enough to know he was actually in the room. Emily had said Irina called for him in her sleep before he arrived. She was probably just dreaming; he was curious to know what was happening in that subconscious of hers, though. Did she even know who she was anymore? This was hitting him more than he thought it would, more than he would ever admit.

Whatever frame of mind she was in his answer was the same. "I won't." She stretched out her right arm as if feeling for something and Jack held out his left hand. She took it and intertwined her fingers through his before pulling him close, forcing him to do the same; his hand she held under her chin like a comforter. Even in sleep she still controlled himl this time he found he had no problem with that. He leant forward and with his free right arm rested his elbow on the cream coloured pillow, he ran his finger along the bridge of her nose with a tenderness he had not possessed for a long time. The motion had always soothed her before.

"Thank you," he heard her say. Whether she had said it for him staying or because he was making her feel better he had no clue; he just knew that for the first time in years, he was sure she was sincere.

* * *

Emily was in the kitchen fixing them all something to eat, they were all hungry and perhaps sitting down to a meal would dissolve some of the tension. The door was closed and so she could not hear much of what was being said in the next room, just snatches of conversation. She had gathered that it was "work stuff" and so asked no questions.

Sydney and Sark were sat opposite each other in the living room, the former glanced at the clock on the wall; her father had been upstairs for about 20 minutes now, she had not expected him to remain with her mother for this long; there was so much bad blood between them both. She had heard no shouting so she took that as a plus. Sark intruded on her thought process, "I believe this is the first time we've been in a room together without us trying to kill each other."

"Day isn't over yet," she pointed out coolly.

"Don't be like that – we do have to work together, after all..."

"Out of necessity," Sydney cut in, refusing to be congenial to her enemy. Sark opened his mouth to speak but she got there first; anticipating what he was going to ask. "There's been no word. Vaughn said he would call when there was news --."

"Over 12 hours has passed," he sounded concerned.

"I am aware of that; it's a long flight back to LA," Sydney retorted snippily and looked to the clock again. "You didn't look at her…" she caught Sark's questioning expression out of the corner of her eye and elaborated. "Before, when you showed us the room. You avoided looking at her."

Sark peered down at his hands for a second, thoughtfully, before responding without actually answering. "And I noticed you did the same."

"She my mother. I'm not anxious to see her on her deathbed," Sydney's stomach dropped at the realisation that she had just as good as admitted that she had accepted the fact that her mom was dying.

Catching the infliction in her voice Sark glanced at her. "Irina may not be my mother but that does not mean we are not close; I have known her for a very long time and I have no wish to remember her as a dying woman," he paused before adding; as he now had Sydney's attention, "we are not so different."

She was about to protest to that when Jack entered the room; he was subdued, which was no less than she expected. At his daughters searching expression he said, "you mother is…settled."

Sydney took it as a hint not to disturb her yet; silence then resumed.

* * *

The sleep of the apartments occupants had gone on uninterrupted; they had each retired to bed, though Jack had slept on the couch and Sark relegated to the floor. They had eaten a meal prepared by Emily though there had been next to no conversation, what chat there had been was strained. Sydney woke around 8 hours later and was surprised to find not only had she slept that long but her father had as well. She did not know Sark's sleeping habits and so had no idea whether he usually slept for this length of time. As she opened the door to her room and stepped into the dimly lit hallway she stared at the door to the bedroom where her mother was; it called to her like a beacon and before she could check herself Sydney was moving towards it. She was afraid of what she might find beyond that door and as she slowly placed one foot in front of the other her dread grew. She breathed in and out deeply, chiding herself for her foolishness. The young agent stopped and reached out to take hold of the handle, then pushed it open and edged inside.

"Mom?" Sydney called out softly, apprehensive sounding. When there was no response she tried again as she stepped closer to the bed, and the prone figure curled up in the centre, "mom?" She rationalized her worry and tried not to panic; her mother was just sleeping. Irina's back was facing the door so Sydney had no choice but to walk around to the other side. The room itself was dark as the light coloured curtains were still closed; though some of the early suns rays filtered in. Sydney crouched down in front of the bed and held out her hand to hover above her mother's mouth, the covers enveloped her body sp Sydney was unable to detect any movement like the steady rise and fall of a persons chest as they breathed. Her hand was centimeters from her mouth when Irina stirred and her hand shot back to cover her own mouth to stifle a surprised but relieved gasp.

She sat down now instead, with her back against the small bedside cabinet; she closed her eyes.

And opened them again when she heard her mothers voice; quiet and barely audible. Sydney shifted positions to face her. "When did you arrive?" Irina's eyes fluttered open and closed as they adjusted again to seeing. Her throat was dry as a bone and she swallowed to alleviate some of the discomfort. Her head was pounding and little white dots danced across her field of vision. That probably had more to do with having no sustenance for gosh knows how many hours. How many days had it been since Sloane had imprisoned her? That was one of the last times she had had food. The hunger pangs coupled with the poisons effects; which were steadily increasing, were enough to make her feel very nauseous, though she was loathe to admit that. Irina was dying but she was still proud, and stubborn as a mule. And the dizziness! The room spun before her blurry eyes and was unable to get a fix on anything. Irina altered her position on the bed and regretted it immediately. She felt as though she were being rolled around and was unable to stop.

But that was more bearable than the pain she felt in her stomach. She wanted to scream, to weep even; though she could not do that. Her strength stopped her from doing that.

"Sark contacted me, told me you were here," Sydney explained. Seeing her mother in this state pained her beyond belief; it was obvious that Irina was trying to mask her pain and the younger woman admired her for that. The CIA would hate that, that she admired her mother; the criminal. Sydney bit her lip, worried suddenly that her mother did not want her there.

Irina put her mind at rest as she responded; it hurt to talk. Heck it hurt to breath, every time she took a breath a stabbing pain in her chest left her reeling. "I'm glad you came," Sydney was hunched forward on the bed and Irina took one of her hands that rested that. Her daughter relaxed and managed a smile, though it was difficult when all she wanted to do was cry. "I want you to do something for me."

"No," Sydney refused and hurriedly explained. "Whatever you want doing; you can do yourself when --."

"When I get better?" Irina finished and shook her head. "We both know that isn't going to happen," she said calmly, before wiping away a tear that ran down her daughter's cheek, "I wish it had not come to this." She spoke regretfully, her voice still low.

Sydney closed her eyes tight shut and set her head down on the mattress, Irina ran her hand through Sydney's hair soothingly; hushing her. "I don't want you to die…" she managed to say through her anguish. She pulled back to stare at her mother, whose eyes seemed unfocussed. Sydney leant towards her; the woman she had tracked, shot at, cursed and cried for, and wrapped her arms around her in a hug. Whispering, "please don't die," before her tears spilled over.

In that moment Irina knew she had her daughter back.

* * *

The smell of cooking bacon and sausages wafted up the stairs and throughout the rooms of the house. Sark was the one that was doing the cooking whilst Emily was out of the house to pick up groceries; her food stores were depleted with all the guests. Jack was awake and stood in the doorway of the kitchen, his stomach rumbled but he was watching the new resident chef to make sure nothing was stuck into their food. Sark was growing frustrated with being checked up on every five minutes. There had been little conversation as Sark steadfastly refused to divulge any information, and Jack did not want to use force or threatening means to procure details with Emily being around.

"If you do insist on hovering can you at least pass me the eggs?" Sark asked testily.

Jack waited a beat before going to the refrigerator to pass the box of 6 free-range eggs. It was amusing really; not long ago he was trying to take the Brit into CIA custody and now he was helping him prepare breakfast.

"If you would like to make yourself useful, Agent Bristow, you could begin by making some toast," Sark suggested as he cracked two eggs into a cup before starting to beat them together. So intent was he on coming up with things for Jack to do he did not keep his concentration on the cooking food behind him.

Until Jack drew his attention to it. "Your bacon is burning," he stated.

Sark practically threw the cup back onto the counter as he returned to his partially smoldering bacon with a, "damn!"

Sydney appeared in the doorway, her shoulders slumped and eyes red and puffy. Jack immediately became concerned; both for her and Irina, he looked to the stairs as if pondering whether to go back up. "She's sleeping again." Sydney answered to Jack's unasked questioned. Not dead; his stomach ceased it's churning. "Mom is…I don't think she'll last much longer," she looked into the kitchen to where Sark was but he turned away, though not before she caught his grim expression. Vaughn had to come soon.

"The food is almost ready," Sark announced; purposely completely off subject.

Sydney nodded, accepting the rapid change in conversation, and happy for it. "Smell's good."

"Sark made it," Jack added.

She smirked in response, faintly amused. "You cook?"

Sark replied as he dished the food onto 3 plates, a 4th smaller one was set aside from the rest. "When the occasion calls for it."

Jack headed deeper into the kitchen to stand by the small plate whilst he waited for Sark to put food onto it; that done he picked it up along with a glass of water he had poured earlier. "You're mother may be hungry," he said by way of explanation before leaving the room.

* * *

As Jack made his way along the corridor to "the room" he could not help wondering; as he glanced down at the food, if this would be Irina's last meal. The thought brought him more pain than he thought it would have done. He nudged the door open with his foot and gave a start when he saw the bed was empty. He quickly put the plate and glass on the table before exiting the room; his first panicked thought that she had somehow gotten passed them and vacated the apartment. He looked to the right to scan the length of the corridor when he saw her.

She was leaning heavily against the wall outside the bathroom for support; her legs, which were visible due to the beige slip she was wearing, did not appear able to support her and looked like they would buckle at any second. Her eyes were shut as of she was trying to get her equilibrium back. They opened and she lifted her head; despite her imminent death she still came across as dignified. Irina stared at him and for the first time Jack was at a loss with what to do. He did not know how to act around her in this situation; it was different earlier as she had been sleeping. He started to wonder how his various possible responses might affect her.

Jack took a step in her direction but she waved him away. "I don't need help."

He stopped, respecting her wishes; but began to rethink that logic when she stayed put. "Irina..."

She gave a small smile. "Maybe I will just wait here for a short while," and then she sank to the floor; hating that she could not even stand but being too exhausted to maintain the effort the bravado required. A bone jarring pain struck her at the unexpected movement and she cried out. Before she knew it Jack was at her side, crouched close to her. "It's ironic…you've wanted me dead…for such a long time. Yet her you are – helping me." She felt herself being lifted off the cold floor with such care.

And then his voice in her ear. "I never wanted this," Jack carried her back to the bed with ease; he was certain she had lost weight. Irina curled up again, in the position she had taken up earlier; clutching her stomach, it provided a small amount of respite. "I brought you something to eat and drink," he went back to the table to collect the plate and glass before sitting down on the chair.

She reached out for the water, the pain that seized her came across on her face, in her elevated hand that shook. Jack placed the glass directly in her hand, and before she took a sip managed a, "thank you." The cool liquid was such a relief to her dry throat; she was half tempted to throw the rest over her to cool her burning skin. The glass was empty in seconds and he took it from her, put it on the bedside cabinet. "I did not expect you to come," Irina admitted as she settled down again.

"I...didn't want you to die alone."

"Deathbed confessions, Jack? That isn't like you," she answered lightly.

He shook his head, annoyed. "Don't Irina; don't act like this doesn't bother you. Doesn't scare you," Jack chided.

Irina opened her eyes again at his admonishment. "It did...at first."

"And what changed?"

Her eyes closed again and she sighed, almost contentedly. "Someone said they would not leave."

He came off the chair to sit on the edge of the bed, being so careful not to jar it in case if hurt her further, and then watched her; knowing it might be the last time that he would have this chance. He caressed her face and she leaned into his hand as he cupped her chin to kiss her lightly on the forehead. She tilted her head up to capture his mouth in a sweet kiss, wanting to do more but feeling like glass. She changed into a seating position and he pulled her gently towards him so that she was resting against him, her head against his shoulder.

Sydney stepped into the room, appearing anxious and holding another glass of water, knowing she was interrupting but having no choice. "Uh…Vaughn's here," she came around to sit on the corner of the bed. "He heard where we were and came back." She held the glass out and Irina took it, smiling gratefully.

Her breathing was becoming more labored, slower and taking more effort. She put the glass to her lips to take another drink; until half of the water within remained. Irina leant deeper into Jack's embrace and her eyes closed peacefully. The glass slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor; her arm went limp.

And they knew.


	12. Epilogue

**Well here it is, the final chapter. I hope you've all enjoyed the ride, and thank you all for reviewing and giving your input. After this one another Alias fic is going up called "Different," an AU, quite a different pace from this one.**

* * *

**Epilogue**

* * *

**PARIS, FRANCE**

The CIA had ordered Jack home; he refused to leave. They told Sydney to persuade him to return; she told them she would stand by whatever decision her father made. They insisted the Bristow's should come back to LA with the body of Irina Derevko, as proof that her death was real. Jack and Sydney told them to stick it -- only slightly more polite. They were going to remain in Paris whilst arrangements were made; a trap was being set up to reel Sloane in. He was going to pay. The two agents felt no remorse; this is what they had been waiting for. Irina's death just made it happen sooner.

Only one day had passed since it happened and the grief was still raw, the father and daughter team had been taught to compartmentalise, so that's what they did around everyone. As uncaring as that made them seem. Sark was even more cocky than usual when he was not making himself scarce, Sydney was cool and business like and Jack was stoic and silent. Emily could not understand their attitudes, wondered why they bottled up their emotions; though Vaughn had explained it to. She was not a part of their secret life and would not accept their way of dealing with things. Tempers were frayed with so many people with an assortment of differences residing under one roof. Each had their own corner and they took to staying in private.

Nobody talk about what happened. Their sadness came out, as anger and impatience and that did not help communication in the slightest.

Sark was fighting his desire to get out of dodge. There had been no talk about what would happen to him after the funeral as he had been pushed to the wayside due to more important matter that needed to be dealt with. He had a feeling Jack would prefer to shoot him, Vaughn watched him with disdain; and Sydney held snatches of conversation with him, much to his surprise and the chagrin of the other two agents.

Now her mother was gone she was hungry to find out little things about her, bits and pieces of information that she should know but didn't due to Irina's absence for most of her life. Sark was the link to the woman she could never get to know. Sark supposed they had something of an understanding for the time being; though he had no illusions that she was starting to trust him.

Sydney was sitting on a chair blankly looking out of the window in 'the room'. It was strangely comforting to be here; where she and her mother had been so close during her last few hours. The ache was still there, that dull thud, like it had been after Danny was murdered. This room was the only place she could come to. With Danny she visited his grave; but Irina was being cremated, her ashes scattered to the wind where she would vanish without a trace for the last time.

The door to the room opened but she kept her eyes trained outside, though she wasn't really seeing anything, and waited for the visitor to come to her. A glass was held in front of her and she recognised the hand as Vaughn's, "I thought you might want a drink."

_The glass fell to the floor and shattered, water splashed, and Sydney's stomach felt as if it had just dropped. Their reactions seemed slow and as they looked to the glass and then to each other, both suddenly afraid to move; to verify what they knew was true. Jack shook his wife gently, whispering her name but knowing that this time there would be no response. He rested his chin on the crown of her head and kissed the top of her forehead, the skin beneath his lips was still warm and clammy. He cradled her in his strong arms._

_Sydney was not quite so accepting; she jumped from her place at the corner of the bed and clasped her mother's limp hand and searched frantically for a pulse._

_"Sydney..." Jack muttered gently. "She's gone," he sounded pained, choked up._

_She shook her head with adamant refusal. "No."_

_Sydney," he spoke again but sterner this time._

Her face crumpled as she gazed upon Irina, she was so serene. "No..." she said again, though far quieter this time. Her strength felt sapped and she slid down to the floor with a thump, dazed.

"Sydney?" his voice drew her out of her reverie.

She took notice of him again, her eyes looked glazed over, like her mother's had, though with Sydney it was for a different reason altogether. Vaughn understood how she was feeling; he had gone through this when he was a boy and he had learnt of his dad's death. "No thanks," Sydney replied in a monotone voice. "It should have worked."

Vaughn sighed, knowing immediately to what she was referring. "We can't be sure...maybe she was too far gone --."

"It worked for Alison Doren," Sydney answered bitterly.

Vaughn seemed unsure; it had been a long shot. For all they knew the Rambaldi 'juice' had an expiration date. "Alison was poisoned," he reminded her gently.

"It should have worked," she repeated. Sydney wondered for a second, did she sound as empty as she felt? From Vaughn's look of sympathy she thought so.

He leant against the windowsill to observe her better, and took a deep breath. "I know you want her back, she was your mother. But she was also a criminal, an enemy of the United States. And one less bad guy to deal with," he tried to break it to her as easily as possible, she knew it already but seemed to have blocked out that aspect of her mother. Sydney blatantly ignored him and when it became obvious that she was not going to speak to him he left her alone; he paused at the door to add, "Perhaps you'd rather speak to Sark." He regretted saying that immediately, knowing how it sounded, but on the upside at least it got her attention.

She shifted on her chair, not enough to actually see him fully but just in her peripheral vision. Sydney looked mad. "Sark is the only connection I have to mom; I'm not going to stop talking to him to make you feel better," she answered venomously.

"That isn't what I meant," he defended.

Sydney looked back to the window. "You can leave anytime you want," she stated dismissively. "I know how much you hate my mother, you won't want to be here for the funeral."

He debated whether or not to stay and try to make amends but knew it would be a waste of time to attempt that as yet; she wouldn't listen.

Sydney ventured from her room some time later, she didn't feel that much better, probably wouldn't for a long time to come. Doubts flooded her mind more than anything; when Sark had proposed to her that the only other way to potentially save her mother was to try the Rambaldi formula that had evidently brought Alison back from the dead, it had sounded like such a good idea. It was all in the interests of the Agency, of course. Keeping Irina Derevko alive was in their best interests, especially as she knew the whereabouts of the deadly poison that had inflicted her. All her hopes had rested on that, but of course it hadn't worked. Since when had anything of Rambaldi provided anything good? She was glad she had not told her father or mother what she had planned; it would be worse for Jack now had she done so, though he would probably have been against the idea anyway. It had been a long shot, and it had failed. Heck her mother had died mere minutes after she had drunk the water containing the formula. Maybe that had contributed to her death!

Of course there was going to be hell to pay when she got back home; the CIA would undoubtedly trace the missing formula back to her. Dixon had been in on it, he had put his trust in her; and she had failed to deliver. She dreaded to think what her father was going to say.

As she left the room she almost bumped into the very person whose reaction she was thinking about. Her dad looked at her, immediately getting the feeling she was holding something back. The guilty expression said it all. And he was nothing if not perceptive. Luckily for her he had come looking for her for a specific reason. "Sloane has been told. My contact informed me that he would try and see for himself whether it's true."

Sloane was walking into a carefully prepared trap. Jack knew his old friend would not be able to just gone on hearsay. Irina had supposedly died before; he was not going to take anyone's word for it that this time it was the truth. And once he came to the funeral to see her body, they would take him down. Simple. It would take place that night, under the cover of darkness, they did not have long to prepare.

* * *

It was quite cool standing outside whilst they waited to be let inside the chapel. The breeze blew their hair, their faces, their clothes, and into the eyes of the group that did not have any more tears to spill for the person they were mourning. At least, they did not cry in public. Jack, Sydney, Sark and Emily stood apart from each other as they waited in silence for the arched wooden double doors to open. They didn't have anything else to say, except for small talk, and they weren't very good at that. The only sound was the whistling of the leaves, the swaying of the branches. It all seemed so calm and strangely serene for such an occasion.

Thankfully the doors opened, cracking as they were pulled back. Unconsciously they stepped forward as one, the minister led the way into the room beyond; passed the chairs and the books on the floor in front of them. He directed them into the front seat; everything was done without talk, it was a quiet affair. Ahead of them, towards the back of the room, was a curtain, in front of that was the coffin, a garland of flowers set on top. A candelabra was to the left of the room, just beside one of the windows. The room was large, tastefully decorated, but mostly empty. Even more so with the lack of people in attendance.

Footsteps coming towards them prompted Sydney to turn around. Vaughn came to a stop beside her; she was grateful he had come. He sat down next to her wordlessly, an apology of sorts. She took his hand and squeezed it, he took it as a sign of forgiveness. This wasn't exactly the time or place to start talking.

A soft and simple melody had accompanied them as they took their seats and now it was turned off as the minister took his place at the front of the chairs, and started to speak. It was a similar speech to all of them, made personal by the usage of their names and the deceased. But he hadn't known her, he couldn't tell them what kind of person she had been, what she had done with her life. It wasn't his fault of course. But the mourners didn't need to be told about Irina, they had all known her in their own way, had been close to her at some point in her mysterious life.

The ceremony was short, but it did not have to be long to mean something. The minister drew to a close; his book was shut and held in his arms. The doors leading out where opened. And it was over. It was so final; it didn't seem right.

The minister shook their hands as they left, wishing them well. It was a formality. He watched them as they left and spoke up again, before the door was closed. "It is alright to cry," he said gently before turning back to go into the building. The door was shut and as he made to walk back into the main room he was startled to see a man, around his age, standing before him. He wore a somber look, almost regretful. "Can I help you, monsieur?"

"I'm sorry I missed the service," Sloane said, apparently full of emotion. "I...I would appreciate it if I could see her one last time. Irina was my sister...We had so many disagreements over the years it saddens me that we never had the chance to resolve our differences..."

The minister took pity on the supposed broken man in front of him. "Of course you may," he answered warmly. "Take as much time as you need."

The minister left the room, to give Sloane some privacy. Once he was gone his composure changed and he strode purposefully in the direction of the coffin. He was mere centimetres from it when the sound of a gunshot shocked him into halting. The bullet had smashed a corner of the coffin, it almost looked as though the shot had come from inside. More cautiously now he crept forward, this time his own gun in his hand.

The minister ran out of the back room, obviously flustered at what he could have sworn he though was a gun going off. He stopped short when he saw the brother of the deceased with his own weapon.

"It would be better if you left the building," Sloane told him, leaving no doubt that there would be repercussions if he decided to stay. The minister scampered. He was probably going to phone the police but that did not matter much; this wouldn't take long.

He laid his hands on the lid of the coffin and then, quickly flung it back to show the woman inside. He gave a start, a look of confusion creased his features, he took a step back. There was nobody there.

The back door swung open and he spun around, aiming his gun in that direction. This was a little unnerving. He was disgusted with himself, how could he have been tricked into believing she was dead so easily? Evidently he was slacking off. Jack was stood in the doorway, he watched Sloane with distaste, his finger brushed across the trigger. "Get away from her," he ordered and came forward. He couldn't help but gloat a tiny bit.

"Come on now Jack, drop the act. It was ingenious really, faking her death to bring me out into the open," he swept his hand around to indicate the room they were stood in. "Very realistic."

Jack frowned. "I would like to say I know what you're talking about, but to be completely honest; you've actually lost me."

The older man chuckled and shook his head, shrugging her responded wryly. "I suppose it doesn't really matter, you've finally got me where you want me."

As they conversed Sydney, whilst keeping her eye on Arvin, walked towards the open coffin. She was almost afraid to look inside, not wanting this sight to be the last she saw of her mother. But she needed to know that Sloane had not done anything. She reluctantly peered inside, her mouth dropped opened. "It's empty," she announced.

Interested now Sloane glanced behind him to see the obviously surprised young woman. "You really didn't know? It looks like we've all been tricked...though that is to be expected considering whom we're dealing with," he said nonchalantly; acting for the entire world like his life was not hanging in the balance.

Disbelieving, Jack joined his daughter, needing to see for himself that this was not a sick joke. But it was true. Irina had disappeared. Again. "She died --."

"It worked," Sydney whispered, just barely managing to hold back a triumphant smile. She felt euphoric.

"I'm afraid we have a confession to make, Agent Bristow," Sark had let himself into the room minutes before and was, wisely, keeping back until now. He was rather satisfied to see the look of anger that suddenly coloured Sloane's face. Of course, his old temporary boss was still smarting from his betrayal. " "Prior to Irina's death she was given the Rambaldi serum that apparently enables the users to come back to life, I might also add that this was done without her knowing."

The expression that came to Sloane's face was one of abhorrence, as if the thought of Irina Derevko using one of Rambaldi's creations was perfectly sickening to him. He did not get the chance to voice these feelings however as the woman in question graced them with her presence. She was not back to full strength just yet; she had been very inactive for quite a while now so one could forgive her for looking a bit out of sorts. Where before her death she had seemed frail and weak, now it almost looked as if she had been rejuvenated. Apparently the Rambaldi juice had a kick to it.

The confusion she must have had did not alter her aim in any way shape, or form though as she wasted no time in joining Sydney and Jack in leveling her own gun at the enemy. "Well I certainly didn't expect to be doing this again…didn't expect to be breathing again for that matter," she leveled a chiding gaze at Sydney and Sark. "Life is full of surprises."

"Mom?" Sydney questioned as she walked forward to stand next to the newly breathing Irina. She needed to be sure that her mother really was okay, that she wasn't making out that she was actually better than she really felt.

Irina nodded, smiled thankfully. "I'm fine, Sydney," she reassured.

"It's so nice to be witness to this touching reunion," Sloane interrupted, his voice held a sarcastic edge, his eyes were hard and just a bit murderous. "Unfortunately I can't stay. As you know I am a very business man…" he allowed a smile to show, as if he knew something that they did not. The two men and two women that comprised Sloane's firing squad to be looked at him, bemused. In the distance sirens could be heard.

Even closer to them the sound of an explosion rocked the room, it was quickly followed by a round of gunfire, aimed at everyone but Sloane. It explained the smug smile on his face; he had a contingency plan. Irina and Sydney dived for cover behind the dais on which the coffin was situated, the latter grabbed Sloane by the arm and pushed him behind it, to stop him from making a break for the backroom, the door of which had blasted off with the explosion. Jack retreated into the anteroom that led to the exit and Sark threw himself behind the second row of chairs. No sooner had the disturbance erupted; it stopped. Not knowing where precisely the shooter was left them with not knowing where exactly to aim. For a few minutes at least, silence reigned. It could have led them into a false sense of security but they knew better than to think that whoever was helping Sloane had left the building.

Irina grabbed him and pushed him roughly against the dais, gaining a small amount of satisfaction when he winced as his head connected with the wood. She kept his head locked in place with her arm, obstructing his breathing as she applied pressure to his throat. Her gun was pressed against his temple. "Tell whomever it is that's back there to come out," she instructed. "Or it will be your body that occupies that coffin." Presumably there were more of them than there were of the enemy but they were in a precarious position; the shooter or shooters were out of their line of sight and, should one of them advance towards the back room, they would be open to being hit.

Sydney was momentarily concerned. As much as it would be wonderful for Sloane to be permanently out of their lives, she would prefer to squeeze him dry of any valuable information first. Then again she was not about to argue with her mother when she was holding a gun, and a grudge.

"Come now, Irina," he said in the fashion of an adult speaking to a child. "We've worked so well together before," that said he did find it trouble to swallow shortly after with the pressure Irina was exerting on his throat. He tried to shift his position to get more comfortable but Irina kept him still. "I'm sure if…we talked…we could do so again."

She pressed her elbow more firmly into his neck and smiled grimly as his face started to turn a worrying shade of red. "Do it or I will kill you," not that she was making any promises that she would not do that anyway.

That Sydney appeared reluctant to let her mother go ahead and shoot him point blank was somewhat reassuring for Sloane; Irina remained impassive as did Jack, who Sloane was just about able to see out of the corner of his eye. "Alright," he conceded. Irina allowed him more air to breathe; he coughed a few times and rubbed the offending area. "Your wife can be very persuasive, Jack," Sloane mentioned with obvious rancor. He stood and stepped away from the safety of the dais.

"I've noticed that. I have found it can be one of her more admirable traits," Jack responded drolly as he focused on his oftentimes-devious enemy. He sneaked a sidelong glance at Irina to find she was doing the same thing; they shared a look of understanding. They would have to talk later of course, this was not the time nor the place to have any meaningful conversations. Where he was annoyed that Sydney had regretted to mention the plan she and Sark had worked together on, he was beyond relieved that it had worked; once he got over his initial shock. Nothing could ever be easy with Irina, after this she would probably disappear into the shadows as usual, he would undoubtedly have to track her down, but then part of the fun was in the chase. And with Irina Derevko it would promise to be an exhilarating ride.

"Frédéric, you can come out," Sloane called out, his calm demeanor belied the hazardous situation. Something was wrong; Sloane was planning something. The remaining four were on their guard as the shooter showed himself, his arms held out to show his empty hands. But still something was not right. Sloane's minion stopped a few feet from the door, his eyes shifting from his boss to the others. "I assure you there is nobody else here."

Irina and Sydney slowly stood, as did Sark from behind the row of chairs, exhibiting the same caution as the rest of the group. Nothing Sloane said could be taken at face value. "I think I may have forgotten to mention something..." the others tensed in anticipation.

Frédéric suddenly grinned, it looked strange on him, sadistic even. He put his arms down and a small black device slid into his hand. His finger hovered over what was unmistakably a trigger.

"Unless you allow me to walk out of here, unscathed, Frédéric will detonate the bomb in the next room," he told them smugly.

"You would risk killing yourself?" Sark questioned.

"The satisfaction I would receive from knowing two if my greatest foes will die here today is greater than the fear for my own life," he answered nonchalantly. He shrugged and sighed, "I have no choice...Sydney, I will regret knowing you may face the same fate as the rest of us," he added, speaking directly to her, ignoring the revulsion she showed. But ultimately the decision rests with your parents."

They heard cars screech to a halt outside. The French police had arrived and in the next few seconds the situation was out of their hands. The back door in which Jack was standing near and the main arched door flew open simultaneously to admit several of the French police; the situation was immediately charged.

Déposez vous armes!" they were ordered.

None of them moved, only Jack, Irina, Sydney and Sark were aware of the danger and, as the police saw all of them as a threat, they were not very willing to listen to their reasoning. The police spread out across the room.

They were demanded again to put down their weapons, ""Déposez vous armes!"

And again nobody complied.

For his part Jack was making an attempt to get the officer that had a gun aimed at him, to listen to what he had to say. But the point stood that he was out of his jurisdiction and this was not a sanctioned mission in the first place. "Qui sont vous?" Jack was asked none to politely; the question was punctuated with a jab in the back from the but of the police officers own gun.

"Jack Bristow --."

"Américain?"

They were rudely interrupted by the actions of Frédéric. He had activated the bomb. Sloane coolly turned around to face them all, "You have 1 minute to resolve this situation."

Just in case any words may have been lost in translation Irina made everything perfectly clear for the police Nous avons 60 secondes pour évacuer le bâtiment avant que la bombe détoneQuite plainly, they had 60 seconds to evacuate the building before the bomb detonates."

* * *

Outside Vaughn was attempting to diffuse the situation on his end; upon arriving they had stayed long enough to ascertain there was a mad man inside with a gun, about to view the body of his sister; that is what the minister had said. Before Vaughn had a chance to explain exactly what was happening they had entered the building, believing this would be a simple case of taking down and arresting one man. But they had still not exited the building.

"C'est une recherche officielle," Vaughn told a little white lie in explaining to the officer in charge that this was an official investigation, he was sure that, should a call be made to Dixon; he would not say otherwise.

In any case he was not being listened to, the man to whom he was trying to get his point across was sidetracked with trying to communicate with his men inside. Seconds later those of the team that were inside scattered, running out of the building like stampeding buffalo. One of which shouted out the alert, "bombe!"

The group that had waited tensely outside for news had time to duck before an explosion lit up the dark sky. Vaughn ran forward but was forced to pull back, the blaze that had erupted refused to allow him to go further than the bottom step.

* * *

The police started to back up once they realised this was a life or death situation; the way they figured it, the foreigners that they were about to apprehend would had to leave the chapel too. The officer that stood behind Jack started to usher him urgently towards the back door. One his way out one of the others grabbed Sark to his feet and began dragging him down the isle to the main door. Their movements were hurried, the bomb was already counting down, what was the worse that could happen now? Jack was close to the door when he spun around and elbowed the officer, he was effective in knocking the younger man down thus allowing him to once again move freely without the threat of being shot. "Sydney, get out."

"Dad, no!" she refused once it became apparent that neither of her parents were going to leave.

"Listen to your father," Irina directed. "You don't need to be here," Sydney remained in her current position. "The police officer is unconscious, if somebody doesn't get him outside he will die with the rest of us." Irina continued, trying a different tact, emotional blackmail. Her daughter would not stay when an innocent man's life was at risk. As neither she nor Jack was going to move without Sloane doing the same, Sydney was the only other person available to drag the officer out of harms way. All three of them could escape before the bomb detonated, but they could not trust that Sloane would still be inside the chapel when that happened. They were not going to give him yet another chance of escaping.

For a few fleeting seconds it seemed that Sydney was going to choose now to remind her parents that she had inherited their stubborn streak. But then she ran to the back door, she stopped before leaving with the officer, who was starting to rouse. "Promise you'll get out."

Irina did not answer immediately, as conscious as she was about the lack of time they had, there was as ever not outward sign that she was in any hurry. "I promise that we will try," she settled with. Sydney had no choice to take that as an answer.

* * *

Vaughn grabbed Sark by the cuff of his shirt and threw him back against one of the police cars, his anger and obvious panic revealing itself. "What happened?"

"If you would release me I would gladly tell you," Sark grinded out. Vaughn let him go and was made to wait whilst Sark dusted himself off and straightened his shirt of the creases Vaughn had made in his enthusiastic attempt at gaining information as to what had gone wrong. Finally he answered, "As you are already aware Agents Bristow and returned to the building when they heard the gunshot. They found Sloane and an empty coffin..." Vaughn made to jump in but reigned in his questions, Sark would get to it in his own time, however long that would take. "I returned to the chapel to find Irina was alive, the plan worked..." he said with a smile. "Shortly thereafter we discovered Mr. Sloane had a back up plan. We were attempting to diffuse the situation when the police arrived. A bomb was triggered. The police and myself managed to escape -- as far as I am aware the others are still inside," he told the last part with undisguised regret.

The two men turned around to view the blazing inferno.

"Vaughn!"

In tangent Vaughn and Sark spun around; Sydney was coming towards them half helping and half dragging one of the police officers. They ran towards her as a secondary explosion forced them to find cover behind one of the cars.

Emily has been ushered away from the chapel at the first sign of activity but she came forward now, her gaze was fixated on the fire. "Where are they?" that was the dreaded question that was on the forefront of everyone's mind.

* * *

**LOS ANGELES**

The CIA panel comprised of four people, all dressed in smart suits and giving Jack a run for his money in appearing stern and stoic. The two men and two women were riveted on the agent that was seated in front of them; they listened intently to what was said, occasionally glancing down at the pads in front of them to jot down anything noteworthy. Sometimes they asked questions to hear specifics that otherwise may be overlooked, but mostly they listened.

"I left the building with only seconds to spare, had I waited any longer I would have been in the chapel with them when it exploded. I was fortunate," the speaker was Jack Bristow; he had escaped relatively unscathed. The panel had taken three weeks to convene to give Jack a chance to recover. He had been shot, supposedly before Sloane, Irina and Frédéric had died when the bomb exploded. Understandably a few details had been omitted.

**_PARIS, FRANCE_**

_What they had not realised was Frédéric was in fact still in possession of a gun, the 9mm was concealed in his pocket and whilst Jack and Irina's attentions were on his boss he uncovered it and aimed at Jack, firing a split second before he realised he had been targeted. He went down but kept his hold on his own gun, he shifted on the floor and fired off a shot. As Irina altered the gun's trajectory to focus on the Frenchman, Sloane used the moment of distraction to tackle her to the floor._

_"You should have stayed dead," he bit out. He straddled her to lessen her ability to move and made a wild grab for the arm in which she held the gun. Frédéric whistled to get Sloane's attention. Whilst Jack had not succeeded in fatally wounding him he was unable to do anything more than hobble as he stopped the blood from flowing out of the gunshot would in his left thigh. With his free hand tossed a knife to his boss, the ever-present sadistic smile on his face._

_She stilled her struggling when the knife was placed against her throat, he pressed the sharp weapon just enough to draw a small amount of blood. Irina glared at him. "Do it," Irina whispered, goading him. "We both know that the chances are high that I will survive anyway; the Rambaldi formula is still in my system." That was another point for Irina._

_"I'll take my chances."_

_And then he slumped forward. The knife toppled to the floor. Irina pushed Sloane back; his eyes were wide open with shock. Blood tickled from his mouth and he remained limp. She paused for a second; half thinking it was a trick of her imagination. She shifted into a seating position. Jack was sat about 10 feet in front of her holding the smoking gun, "I guess you owe me one."_

_Irina swung her arm around to aim at Frédéric. Jack turned with her as she fired at the Frenchman, he had risen and was preparing to have a second go at killing Jack; he must not have got the memo that he was nigh impossible to do such a thing. Frédéric fell back to the ground. Irina wasted no time, she pulled Jack to his feet and put his arm around her shoulder to better support his weight. It would probably hurt but a bit of pain was better than death; the fate that awaited them if they did not leave very soon. "Now we are even."_

_Together they made for the door._

**LOS ANGELES**

"You are certain both Irina Derevko and Arvin Sloane are now deceased?"

"Positive," Jack certified, staying indifferent.

**_PARIS, FRANCE_**

_"You know I have to leave," Irina said to him. They were lying side by side amidst a group of trees that had provided cover for them when the building exploded. Bits and pieces of fiery debris lit up a small part of the surrounding area. Beside her Jack gritted his teeth and she moved into a kneeling position to place her hands over his wound, it was painful but he would live. The others would search the area very soon to ascertain whether they were still alive._

_"It's what you do best," he replied without rancor. It was partially true after all. He got into a seating position and leant against a tree; it was a slightly more comfortable position to be in, given that he was almost bleeding to death. "What I said earlier -- before you died --."_

_Irina shushed him. "If this is where you take everything back, you don't have to."_

_"I wasn't going to, on the contrary I am glad that you are alive," he revealed._

**LOS ANGELES**

Once he got outside the room he allowed himself a smile. Of the CIA only himself and Sydney knew the truth, Vaughn was kept in the dark for the simple reason that she would not let him lie for her. Sark had been apprehended and was in their custody, occupying the cell that his boss had before him. He would remain there whilst he still had information to give. Or until he found a way to escape, Jack would not put it past him to try.

Night had fallen when he arrived home, it had been a long day full of questions, he still did not know whether the panel would call him back to go over his statement. If that happened he would tell them the same. As long as Irina stayed out of trouble they would be none the wiser. But then this was Irina he was talking about. He switched on the light in the hallway and walked towards the living room, pausing only when he noticed one of the lamps was burning. He paused and leant against the doorway with folded arms. "Will this become a regular occurrence?"

Irina set down the book she had been reading, on her lap. She was stretched across the couch, a beverage of some sort was on the floor next to her, and all in all she had been making herself at home. At one point the thought may have been unsettling, but now? Not so much. After what had happened recently he found he could probably get used to the idea. "I took a big chance in coming here, the least you can do is say hello," the chide was cushioned by a mischievous smile.

Agreeing to play whatever game she had in mind, Jack proceeded to welcome here with, "hello Irina."

"How is your wound?" at the question her eyes fell to the area on his chest that he had been shot.

"Healing nicely," Jack answered. "You didn't just come here for the coffee and to read, did you?"

"It's tea," she corrected, "and no I didn't." But I am supposed to be dead and what better place to lay low than in the house of the man that has, on so many occasions, voiced his wish to see me dead?"

He walked to the couch and pulled her to her feet. "But that's all in the past," Jack reminded her. "How long can you stay?" He knew that, realistically, she was unable to remain in his house for a prolonged period of time. But they would probably bump into each other when he least expected it, as was her way.

Irina looked thoughtful. "36 hours. Just how able are you with your injury?"

Jack smirked. They would find out soon enough; but he was certain he would manage.

**The End**

* * *

I can't believe I actually finished an Alias fic! Phew. On to the next.


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